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 29, 2000.  PernMUSH.  E'vrin's POV.
--
Your location's current time: 20:53 on day 31, month 6, Turn 32, of the Tenth
Pass. It is a summer evening.
Cast:  Christopher (cameo), E'vrin, Emilly, Ryialla, K'nan; Kassima,
       Merielan; Ysaeve.

Supper, storming in and out, a daughter, the day's end -- a bumpy ride.
============================================================================
Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern(#750RDJM$)
Contents:
PLAYERS: Emilly Pierron Christopher Ryialla K'nan E'vrin 
OTHER: Dragonpoker Table, Stage
--

Christopher nods to E'vrin in greeting.

--
Christopher is a tall lad from a Bitran holding. He has blue eyes, dark blonde hair, 
and is quite muscular. He holds him self proudly, as if he is quite happy with 
whatever little he has. He often has a warm smile on his lips. He usually wears a 
black tunic and pants, both made from rought, sturdy fabric, and looking as though 
they were quite new. He is 14 Turns, 8 months, and 21 days old.
Carrying:
Duke
--

E'vrin nods back to Christopher, keeping on keeping on towards the main of the 
cavern with a judicious eye for supper dishes.

Emilly waves to E'vrin with her fork "'lo E'vrin! Join us when you've loaded up your 
plate? There's a good wineskin down here." She winks sidelong at K'nan and scoops 
more food into her mouth.

"We don't have more Weyrwomen up from the Southern Continent, do we?" E'vrin asks 
with elaborate surprise and glances around.

[Southern's Telinda and Honshu's Jelisa, as well as Telinda's WL, K'tor, all
 visited the other night, bemusing and amusing some Telgar folk.]

Ryialla chuckles. "What, aren't we allowed to indulge in the good wine once in 
awhile ourselves?"

Christopher has disconnected.

Emilly laughs "Of course you are. E'vrin's just teasing me because of all the august 
personages who descended upon the midnight cavern the other night and I was one of 
few awake."

E'vrin says firmly, "And she handled herself very well, faced with them." He brings 
over his plate of supper and settles in with the group. "It was quite the scene."

K'nan chuckles ever so softly.. "I didn't complain. There was some of that fine wine 
left by th'time I stumbled in late.."

Emilly colors ever so slightly but says only "Yes, it was very good wine. Wasn't it 
E'vrin?"

You say "I suppose, Emilly." He gives her a slanting smile, then bends to his meal. 
"Don't drink much, enough to tell the difference, anyway, I guess. I like klah."

Ryialla ahs, softly, and sips her own wine. "I must have been asleep already. Pity. 
Would've liked to see that."

K'nan bobs his head slightly, "Aye, me as well.. t'would have been nice t'see our 
Southern brethren."

Poking his fork through a mess of greens, E'vrin idly comments, "They looked well 
enough. The whole Weyr's invited down to visit."

Emilly nods "It was quite disturbing -- first the Southern and Honshu Weyrwomen 
walked in and I had _no_ idea where A'lex and Nimiriel were and then the just walked 
in as if it was all quite normal and sat down and hauled out the best wine. And then 
Southern's weyrleader came in as well and ... and ... well I almost keeled over from 
the idea of so many important folk there with just me and the night-hearth drudges 
to serve them. Until E'vrin came down." She beams at the bronzerider and takes a hug 
bite of roast wherry.

E'vrin, for his part, mixes amusement and modesty in his expression, and has a bite 
of greens.

Ryialla chuckles. "E'vrin to the rescue."

You say "Something like that. I didn't do anything. Then our own Weyrleaders 
appeared, and the Southern folk talked with them, and all Emilly and I had to do, 
really, was sit, listen, and drink our wine."

Emilly nods "Oh -- and clean up afterwards of course." She grins wryly.

E'vrin thins a grin at her. "Except that /I/ left before that happened."

Ryialla grins. "Of course." Draining back the last of her wine, she says, "If you'll 
excuse me, I promised 'Saira I'd come read her a story." She leans over and gives 
K'nan a kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you a little later, love?"

K'nan looks up with a soft smile, and returns the kiss to Ryi's other cheek. "Sure 
thing, love," he says softly, "Tell 'Saira I said h'lo."

"Good evening, Ryialla," E'vrin sends her way cheerily.

Ryialla waves, and heads on out.
Ryialla walks towards the inner cavern.

Emilly nods "Good evening Ryialla" she nudges E'vrin "Yes -- I noticed you left 
before cleanup. But that's all right. That part wasn't too hard. And since K'nan 
finished off the wineskin I didn't need to worry about that either."

E'vrin looks appropriately chastised, then asks K'nan, "How was the Lounge, then?"

K'nan chuckles, "Never let it be said I turned down good wine.. ah, well, quite 
well, thankee. Some other 'riders joined us.. I fear Meri was a touch 
overenthusiastic about drinking, though." A touch of a wry grin, "She didn't do 
anything too embarassing, but I'm sure she had a headache in th'morn."

E'vrin swallows a bite of his own roast. "--Drank too much? Well, at least she 
didn't make a spectacle, then. Embarrass the Weyr, incur the wrath of her 
wingleader..." He makes it sound so dramatic, foreboding.

Emilly finishes up her own plate and smiles. "Well, I need to bring these items that 
are finished to the wash and then to their owners, if you'll excuse me." She gathers 
up her mending and clears her plate into the dish bin. "A good evening to you both. 
Enjoy the wine as long as want K'nan -- I can ask Mum about another good one for the 
next time you do me and Qulan a favor." She dimples that smile of hers at both 
riders and sets off toward her quarters.
Emilly walks towards the inner cavern.

[. . .]

E'vrin waits a moment in comfortable silence, then pushes the conversation a little 
more. "How are you and Ryialla doing, then, K'nan?"

K'nan nods mutely to E'vrin's words.. and then at the question glances up with a 
broad smile. "Jus' fine," he says warmly, "We're doing great, actually."

You say "Yeah?"

K'nan nods to that, "Aye..why y'ask?"

"Small talk," is E'vrin's light answer. He pushes the last of his greens into a neat 
pile on his plate. "I figured it was that or detailed tales from the Lava Lounge or 
how you and Merielan are doing."

"True," K'nan chuckles softly, "An' Meri an' I are jus' friends."

E'vrin does a histrionic sniff and makes round eyes at the green rider. "So, if you 
and I became friends, you'd rub my feet, too?"

K'nan leans his head back and laughs.. and then winks over, "Only if you returned 
th'favor."

E'vrin admits, "I'm not good with feet. You'd have to show me the proper technique. 
Is it different for different people?"

K'nan nods, with an air of expertise, "Each foot is different.. some are small and 
delicate, others larger, some calloused and some not.. you need to know just how to 
rub."

"Hmm," is E'vrin's wise comment. "And different rubs for different situations, I 
suppose."

"Oh, of course," K'nan agrees, "To unwind after 'Fall, or after a long walk.. to 
work out muscle spasms.. to tease and entice.." A grin, "All kinds."

E'vrin slurps up the last green. "What kind did Meri get?"

K'nan quirks an eyebrow. "Just a relaxing one.."

"Of course," E'vrin echoes back with a smile. "Did she enjoy the Lounge?"

K'nan chuckles softly, "I do think so.. but I haven't had th'chance to talk t'her 
since she got back."

You say "Oh, sure. Been busy?"

K'nan bobs his head easily, "Aye.. 'Fall t'night, for example."

E'vrin mutters, "There goes my appetite. --Not your fault, but ... you know what I 
mean."

K'nan bobs his head in sympathetic understanding.. "Aye, aye, I know.."

E'vrin sighs and pushes his emptied plate away. "Well, I'd best check in with 
Kassima. You know how /that/ is.... Good flying, K'nan, to you and Veyath."

K'nan smiles lightly, "Clear skies, E'vrin.."

E'vrin smiles back and heads out.

You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

[Merielan and Alerith were there, so I posed:]

E'vrin limps his stalk purposefully along the rim of the bowl, eyes on his target.

You walk into the records cavern, leaving the bowl behind.
--
Records Room(#403RJs$)
Sounds echo off the cool stone walls of the records room, and bounce hollowly off 
the uncarpeted floor. Though perfectly neat and dust free, this room seems to 
maintain an aura of unease, though that may be the weight of the ancient records 
that are contained within, and the heavy decisions that have been formed here. A 
large, stained wood table with seats stretched along one side stands on a raised 
area to the north, up a single step from the rest of the room. The east and west 
walls are covered, ceiling to floor, with book shelves and scroll shelves containing 
records dating back nearly to the First Interval. The most stunning feature is the 
broad sheet of clear muscovite that stretches across the ceiling like a giant 
skylight. Through the skylight, 
The afternoon is clear and the sun shines brightly. It is completely still, no winds 
blow and the summer air temperature feels comfortable. 
Contents:
Kassima
Kyril
TGW Wish List
Telgar NPC List
Turn Day Register
--

[Log includes the LC +watch for clarity of later developments:]

TGW-LC>> Merielan walks in from the bowl.

And still upon her earthly throne--though it's not much of a throne, is it, that 
worn seat at the table with its wood all stained with ink?--sits Kassi, pouring 
diligently over something rather old and moldy looking. Perhaps she has found 
someone's collection of fungus. At any rate, she looks up from it. "G'day, Ev. 
Looking for something in particular, or for me, and in the latter case, please tell 
me L'cher hasn't done something horrid you're about t'be reporting?"

TGW-LC>> Merielan strides in, throwing frequent glances over her shoulder back at 
the bowl. She mutters curses under her breath. Chugging forward she stops at the 
food table and pours herself a mug of Klah. One or two sips-well-gulps of this seem 
to calm her and she turns around with grey eyes only -slightly- snapping instead of 
fiery. It is then she spots K'nan and groans, moving to sit beside him. "I didn't do 
anything -momumentally stupid did I?" Interesting way to start a conversation, but 
there it is.

E'vrin squares himself before his wingleader, puts his hands behind his back, and 
admits soberly, "L'cher has done something horrible. As we thought might happen -- 
he did succeed in getting me pregnant."

[This refers back to a conversation the two'd had, jokingly, about wing
 spawning and such an unlikely event as L'cher-E'vrin spawn, especially.]

It is thankful at this point that Kassi has not just taken a sip of water. Had she, 
she would have found it much harder to maintain dignity. "I shouldn't have put it 
past him," she instead decides with a rather suffering sigh. "Although I had 
thought--for some odd reason--that you had better taste than *that*. Well, then, how 
long will the Healers ground you, and will you try nay t'be breaking Lach's hand 
entirely when the time comes?"

TGW-LC>> "Well, y'did strip naked an' give lap dances all 'round.." K'nan says with 
a straight face, then winks.. "Nah. Y'didn't act -too- bad.. but y'didn't stick 
around too long. Moderation, next time, Meri.."

E'vrin grins and flops himself down into a facing chair. "No, no, I can't possibly 
continue with that -- but I wanted to say it, to see how you'd react. You know I 
don't have anything to do with men that way. I tracked you down just to see if 
there's anything needed before Fall."

[Thread doesn't Fall at night, whatever K'nan posed, so we went with the idea
 of a Fall in the morning.]

TGW-LC>> Merielan wrinkles her nose at your first comment, her way of -moderating- 
sticking her tongue out at you. A sigh as she sips at her Klah "I know, I know...I'd 
just never been there before." slightly plaintative. Another sigh "Thank faranth I 
didn't do anything though..."

TGW-LC>> K'nan chuckles softly, and reaches over to pat her shoulder.. "I was there 
t'watch you, don't worry.. maybe we could head down another time, too."

Kassima grins back, leaning back in her chair and toying with a charcoal stick. 
"I'truth, I'm glad, but after all the other pregnancies Lach's put me through--nay 
*me*, literally, but y'know what I mean--I daresay I'm prepared for any. I could use 
a few extra riders and a turn of good luck or thirty, but I don't suppose you can be 
providing those?"

"'Kassima' and 'L'cher' -- 'Kascher'? That's not a bad name. --Well, if I could, I 
doubt I'd be wasting my time here, with such power over the world at my beck and 
call." E'vrin shrugs a shoulder. "I think we're ready, but K'nan mentioned it just 
now, and you know I get uptight about fighting. Among other things."

TGW-LC>> Merielan raises an eyebrow at K'nan, one corner of her mouth tilts upwards 
"So I -can- do something monumentally stupid hmm?" She chuckles,teasing "and you can 
watch..and pass the story onto Kassi..to go into her lore." A shake of her amazed 
head "Shards that woman knows more embarassing stories then anyone I know."

TGW-LC>> K'nan flashes a crook'd grin back to Merielan, and winks one eye. "Nah. So 
I can keep it as blackmail by -threatening- t'tell people.."

TGW-LC>> Merielan laughs sips at her Klah and just shakes her head. Curling one leg 
up under her, she regards you, eyes still chuckling "So..what were you and E'vrin 
talking about?"

Kassima shudders. She can't help it. "Don't even suggest a combining of my name with 
his--the thought's enough t'make me long for a good, strong drink. Y'never know; 
what *would* an omnipotent creature do for a hobby?" The question's rhetorical. She 
taps her lower lip with the stylus. "Don't we all. There's firestone enough, today's 
drills were excellent, and we're only out a few to injury and spawning; we should do 
well. Weather conditions aren't too poor. A bit of a crosswind; enough t'make us 
cautious, if'n Thread itself wouldn't do. Is there something else you're uptight 
about presently, or just the Fall?"

E'vrin waits a beat. Then: "I think K'nan is seducing Merielan away from T'kar. It 
may be mutual. I've told myself to stay out of it, but I know that one or the other 
-- or both -- is going to end up in my weyr, crying about it on my shoulder, if it 
happens."

TGW-LC>> K'nan grins a little, and answers simply.. "Footrubs." He leans back again, 
fingers curling 'round his glass of wine and lifting it to take a sip.

That stylus pauses mid-tap. Green eyes don't blink. "So," Kassi finally says on a 
sigh, sounding disgusted. "He's at it again, is he? Though the other time 'twas the 
other way 'round, his own weyrmating he was breaking. I thought Merielan had *some* 
sense. T'kar doesn't know?"

TGW-LC>> Merielan raises one eyebrow. _High_. Shifting in her seat her eyes flick 
just about everywhere -but- K'nan's face. "Oh?" Just a simple 'oh'. But so much can 
loaded on, this one is carrying the weight of: Oh, so you were talking about me? As 
in me and -you- huh? And just what did you and E'vrin say about that? Along with, I 
really -do- have to talk to E'vrin -soon-. Oh yes, this little 'oh' is -quite- 
heavy.

You say "Don't know. I'm not inclined to go rushing to tell him. Both K'nan and 
Merielan insist it's friendly." Another pause. "I found them in a footrub in her 
weyr the other night. I know his history, and I wondered.... Ah, but it's not my 
business, except to keep them from weeping on me over something they could've 
avoided. We all figured this couple might not last forever, anyway."

TGW-LC>> K'nan dips his head in a slight nod, answering softly.. "Aye. The different 
kinds of footrubs, when to give them.. and such."

TGW-LC>> "Really?" Meri murmurs in that dangerous tone. Her eyes snap and spark. She 
doesn't need it spelled out to know what E'vrin is thinking. Clearing her throat 
delicatly she asks "If you'll excuse me K'nan? I really -do- need to talk to 
E'vrin." Talk, right..-talk-. Uh huh.

TGW-LC>> K'nan lifts an eyebrow, as if curious as to what she needs to talk to the 
other 'rider about.. but he does bob his head lightly in a nod. "Oh, aye," he says, 
"Understand."

Kassima mutters, "They would. Mayhaps 'tis, only... with K'nan, I could believe 
'tisn't. False once will prove false again, and all that rot." 'Footrub' lifts her 
brows a notch. "He certes never offers *me* footrubs, and I'm surely his friend. 
How... intriguing. I'm nay certain whether t'be vexed or resigned, or both--*T'kar*, 
now, might weep t'you, and without being able t'be avoiding it."

TGW-LC>> Merielan stalks out, and -stalk- would be the right word.

E'vrin murmurs, "Poor T'kar. Well, that's my tale of woe," and he smiles self-
deprecating with the description, "and so, and so. How're you?"

TGW-LC>> Merielan walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.
Merielan strides in from the bowl.

"Nay yours, one hopes, but so it goes," Kassi replies with vague gestures of stick. 
"I'm being quite the delinquent and spending this time looking for interesting 
pieces of history t'share with the children rather than pounding formations into 
m'head one more time. So awful of me. G'deve, there, Merielan."

*Slam* Goes the door as Meri -stalks- inward. Grey eyes steam as they search..and 
destroy? "E'vrin" Says Meri calmly -far- too calmly. "Might I talk to you?" -Far- 
too calm. Kassi gets a tight controlled nod.

"Oh, speaking of children, I was going down to Igen later--" Oh, dear. E'vrin 
doesn't get to finish his sentence. He stays sprawled in the chair opposite 
Kassima's, though, and only lifts his chin over his shoulder to direct an opaque 
glance back at Merielan. "Yes?"

Oh, my. This should be good. Kassi leans back and prepares to enjoy the show. "T'see 
Ysaeve?" she asides to Ev in the meanwhile. "She's, what, five now?"

"I -know- you care about T'kar" Meri begins, quite obscurely "I -think- you care 
about me. But my life -is- my life and our life together is our life -together-. 
We're -two- people not three. I wouldn't do anything to jepordize that relationship. 
Which I thought -you- knew." Meri's eyes spit fire "I was wrong-fine- but it's -my- 
life and I don't need you to judge me. So either be my friend..and -trust- me to 
make the right decsions in my life..or stay out of it."
*slam* Goes the door again as Meri -stalks- out. After one more nod to Kassi 
"Kassi.."

[Neither E'vrin nor I approve of people who stalk in, throw a fit, and stalk
 out without allowing the other side to respond, so here's this:]

E'vrin blinks calmly through this and then turns back to Kassima with a proud smile. 
"Nearly six, actually. Can you believe it?"

Merielan slips out of the records cavern.

Kassima blinks more bemusedly than calmly, herself, twiddling stylus stilled for the 
duration. "Methinks the lady protests too much," she murmurs once the brownrider has 
made her hasty departure. "...That was somewhat surreal. Oh, I can, with Kris over 
six and a half now. They grow like bloody *weeds*."

E'vrin might be sitting a little more stiffly than he was before the whirlwind 
whirled in, but that's all. You get old enough, you ride through these things. 
"Weeds get weeded, though, and we shan't be doing that to our babies. So, yeah, I 
was going down to see Ysaeve tonight. You're welcome to come along if you like...?"

Kassima agrees fervently, "Nay I, nay. Let them grow and flourish and thrive, and 
cover all the world in their glory someday." Large dreams for children *are* a 
mother's prerogative. "I might, but y'know how I feel about Igen. Better for me 
t'steer clear of it. I'd say t'give her m'regards, only given that she wouldn't know 
me from Faranth...."

"You're her half-brother's mother," E'vrin supplies thoughtfully. "She's a Weyr's 
child; she'll understand that readily enough. All right, then. If there's nothing 
else, wingleader of mine?"

TGW-LC>> K'nan walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

[He and Merielan went to her weyr.  Log stopped +watching the LC.]

"A bit like a stepmother, only nay," Kassi supposes. "Which is quite as well. Nay, 
nay--be about your business, and give that little girl of yours a hug and kiss and 
fatherly devotions. Just get back in time for rest a'fore the Fall, hey?"

E'vrin pushes himself up to his feet. "I'll come by your weyr," he promises deadpan, 
"so that you can make sure of that for yourself, hmm?"

Kassima laughs, blows him a kiss. "You're so very considerate, m'dear. An elegant 
idea; I commend you, and will see you later, then."

E'vrin grins, more relaxed, and stumps his way out.

[Travel to Igen deleted.  Sharath lands on the main beach:]

--> Sharath coils his lean, tawny length down out of the night. His landing sends up 
/between/-chilled swirls of sand, and he paws and grunts at this so-familiar soil 
before settling into a crouch.

--> Ysaeve sits cross-legged, a fair distance from the water, small hands carefully 
shaping a sand-weyr. She looks up at Sharath's arrival, expression guilty; upon 
identification of the bronze dragon, though, her face changes: "Da!" She leaps to 
her feet.

You slide down Sharath's shoulder and foreleg to the ground.

"Ysaeve!" E'vrin lands carefully, keeps his legs under him, and holds open his arms. 
"The lower-caverns folk said you were probably out here, and look, Sharath found 
you."

Sharath huffs towards the girl. He did. Good on him.

--
Dark hair, glossy when touched by light's burnisher, curls in an unstoppable wave of 
brown reaching to shoulders' curve; ringlets frame her face's heart-shape, fair skin 
liberally darkened by Igen's sun. The soft features are only just beginning to hint 
at later years, with more defined planes showing despite the fullness of cheeks: 
green eyes, lit with curious intensity; rounded mouth, more often caught open on a 
word than not. The amused turn of her lips is Faerysa's, probably an unconscious 
attempt to emulate the oft-seen expressions, while the slight character of her nose 
is E'vrin's. Small and steadily built, Ysaeve's tendency is toward adventure-
seeking, though stealth is not yet her ally, nor tact. Morning finds her neatly 
dressed, in legging's butter-soft clasp and embroidery showing bright along the 
seams of a fresh tunic; by evening's peak the small hands have found mischief, 
fabric showing darker at her knees from tumbling, disheveled hair matching the tired 
note in her voice's soprano, though she'll be the first to deny the likelihood of 
sleep. Ysaeve appears to be about 5 Turns, 11 months, and 6 days.
--

Sand and children's feet make for an interesting combination; in Ysaeve's case, she 
stirs a miniature whirlwind as she launches herself at -- into, E'vrin's arms. "They 
knew I was here?" she asks, eyes wide. "I thought I'd snuck past without anyone 
seeing me -- " so she's not so stealthy; the nannies aren't so inept that they'd let 
one of their charges 'escape' without really knowing where she was.

E'vrin hugs the girl and holds her up effortlessly, eye to eye, green to green. 
"They had a pretty good guess, anyway," he answers, apparently willing to encourage 
the idea of her stealthiness. "D'you like the beach? I always did, myself."

Ysaeve nods seriously. "It's m'favorite, but I'm not allowed to go swimming unless 
someone's watching." She sniffs a little, "'Tasya's allowed to swim by herself. Mama 
says that's fair 'cause she's older, but I don't think so." Slipping her arms around 
E'vrin's neck, she hugs tightly. "Did Sharath really find me? Can he do that?" Wide 
eyes, if possible, go rounder.

"/I'm/ watching," E'vrin points out innocently and snugs her weight into a secure 
position against him before turning them both around to the dragon. "He can, you 
bet, kiddo. Sharath's got this bright sparkly mind, see, and so do you, so it's just 
sparkles calling to sparkles, like fires in the night."

Ysaeve considers this, brow quirked in concentration. "So...maybe I'm a special 
sparkly color and he can tell me apart from the other colors 'cause I look like 
me?" That explanation seems to be working for her. She reaches down, detaching the 
warn-looking stuffed bronze dragon where it was tucked into her belt. "See? Sharath 
and Sharath!" She holds the toy up for comparison against the bronze, and looks 
dissapointed. "They're not the same color anymore. My Sharath got dirty."

Sharath extends his head forward for a better look. The stuffed dragon spins its 
reflection, multiplied, in the swirling blue-violet eyes, and then the bronze shakes 
his head and backs off again with a snort.

E'vrin muffles a laugh into his daughter's hair. "He doesn't think anything made in 
/his/ image should be dirty. Poor Sharath."

Ysaeve pulls a grin, and sets about placating. "But this Sharath's special. He 
protects me from the tunnelsnakes. Sarai said so, and she's the Weyrwoman, so she'd 
know. Mama says I have to listen to her, but I don't mind." A tip of her head back 
and a curious look. "Do you know Sarai?"

"I do," confirms E'vrin, looking again at her. "She and I Impressed together, 
trained together, graduated together. She makes a mean cot, as I recall from 
Candidacy. She said that, huh? And the tunnelsnakes are leaving you and Sharath 
alone?"

Ysaeve bobs her head. "See, I was gonna run away. I had all my stuff from the 
nursery in a bag, and then in the living cavern it ripped and everything fell out. 
Sarai wanted to know why I was running away, and I told her it was 'cause Natasya 
said tunnelsnakes come after little girls who are almost six. But Sarai said Sharath 
would protect me, and he has." Her expression brightens. "Did you really come just 
to see me?"

E'vrin hugs her again, murmuring into her sweet soft hair, "I did, kiddo. All the 
way from Telgar." 'Run away.' He takes a moment holding her, a moment adult and 
paternal and private. Then: "You wanna get down and go say hello to /my/ Sharath? 
Maybe he'll think yours looks better up close, and he's heard how brave he is, to 
keep the nasty snakes away."

Sharath tries to look un-forbidding, but his tail is shivering impatience into the 
sand, even for this hatchling of his rider's. And the stuffed, /dirty/ image of 
himself.

Ysaeve, of the ever-expanding eyes: "Oh, could I, Da? Could I?" She's practically 
wriggling with excitement; the bronze's impatience doesn't quite seem to register, 
probably because of the complete and total trust she has in his rider. "Lots of 
people here know about you and Sharath. I talk to them. Janine said Acevedath was 
Sharath's friend. Do dragons have friends? I wasn't sure if it was true."

You say "You bet they do. Dragons are people, too, aren't they?" He sets her down 
and gets ready to amble after her towards the waiting bronze. "Sharath talks to all 
kinds of dragons; he probably has friends over half the world by now. And that 
includes you, so just ignore his tail. You know how he gets sometimes when he wants 
his couch and some sleep." His tone gets arch. "Just like your old Da."

Ysaeve twines her fingers through E'vrin's, half-skipping to Sharath's side; the 
half-finished sand weyr lies forgotten behind them. She tilts her head, looking 
up...and up, then carefully extending her free hand towards him. "Sharath's the best 
bronze ever," she stage-whispers to her father, confiding.

Sharath lowers his head and, despite all the tail-twitching and blue-glaring, gently 
pushes his muzzle against that little hand, holding perfectly still once they're 
touching.

E'vrin's smile is heard in his voice if not seen in the gloom. "Yes, I know. So does 
he. Just be careful with him, lovey."

If there's never been a time in Ysaeve's young life for her to be dazzled, she is 
now. Her smile threatens to touch her eyes. "I know, Da. I'm careful with Irianth. 
She likes me, but that doesn't mean I can just run up and hug her like I can Mama." 
Slowly, she smoothes a small hand across a short length of bronze hide.

Sharath thrums just a little, enough to rock the rhythm of the sound from his hide 
to her skin.

E'vrin encourages after a moment, "There you go. And of course you know. You live at 
a Weyr, don't you?" His tone is complex underneath with emotion; the surface stays 
mellow-bright, and his big fingers threaded through her little ones stay warmly 
slack.

Ysaeve doesn't quite squeal -- she's been told that 'indoor voices' are best (quite 
a few times) -- but her exclamation comes close to it. "I felt it! I can feel his 
voice." A little more assured, now, she continues with gentle strokes against hide 
softly bronze. Confirming, "Yes, a Weyr. Telgar's a Weyr, too, right? Does it look 
like home?"

Sharath settles his head to the ground and lets his eyelids go opaquely down over 
the whirling blue.

E'vrin answers, "Well, yes and no, I guess, kiddo. It has a lake and feeding grounds 
and a living cavern and Hatching Grounds -- all the things that make a Weyr a Weyr 
-- but there are little differences. The weather's different. No sand, no real winds 
during most seasons. You might like it, though. There are all these grassy plains 
and even trees around it. Like something out of a desert nomad's story!"

Ysaeve blinks, uncertain. "Trees? Are you sure, Da? At a Weyr?" And even more 
unbelievable: "No sand? But how do they build sand-weyrs?" Her expression 
momentarily perplexed, the mention of stories coaxes a smile, and yet another 
question. "I'd like to look at the trees. Do you think I could see Telgar one day?"

With a faint sigh of relief, E'vrin lowers himself to sit on the sand, his legs 
awkwardly sprawled before him. He lifts a handful of grit and lets it sift down, 
swirling a bit in the lakeside breeze. "None of this," he confirms. "Dirt instead, 
and I promise on Sharath's own nose that's under your fingers there, there are trees 
around the Weyr. Would you /like/ to come see them?" He lowers his hand to the 
ground, stares solemnly at her. "I wouldn't make you, Ysaeve."

Ysaeve turns green eyes on her father's nearly identical gaze. "Oh, I would! Really 
really." Explaining, "Every time we go somewhere, Natasya has to come, too -- " a 
delicate wrinkle of the nose she definitely inherited from E'vrin -- "And we get 
into fights. If I went to Telgar to visit, she wouldn't come, right?" A pause; she 
adds, "I miss you, Da. I know you're really busy, just like Mama but with a 
different color dragon, but maybe one day we can go and look at the trees." Her 
voice is hopeful.

Those green eyes glitter visibly, even in the evening's dark, but E'vrin can say 
steadily, "You bet, my little sparkly one. I'll come sometime and steal you away 
from the nannies and your sister, and we'll sit on the grass under a tree and have 
lunch together. How 'bout that?"

Part of Ysaeve's expression still shows a little skepticism about the existence of a 
flourishing green landscape -- she'll believe it when she sees it -- but joy at the 
prospect of a picnic shines through. One hand still carefully strokes Sharath, but 
the fingers in her father's hand squeeze. "Oh, Da. That would be the best ever." 
Another pause; she considers. "Mama said...I had...Is my brother at Telgar?"

Sharath rumbles again. His rider doesn't, but answers calmly, "That's right. His 
name is Keveris, but we call him 'Kris' because that's shorter. He's about a Turn 
older than you, and he has green eyes like yours, too. He likes puzzles a lot. Would 
you like to meet him sometime?"

Ysaeve finds common ground, then. "I like puzzles, too," she offers. "I'd like to 
meet him. Does he look like me? It would be funny to see a boy who looked like 
me...Kris is a nice name. It's easier to say, like 'Eve' 'stead of Ysaeve. Or Rysa 
for Faerysa and Ev for E'vrin and Tasya for Natasya and..." a yawn; Ysaeve tries to 
hide it, but with both of her hands occupied that's no mean feat. The yawn slips 
through, interrupting her rather sleepy exploration of nicknames.

E'vrin puts a tender hand across her mouth to catch it for her, and he smiles a 
little, a little lopsidedly. "He looks like himself," he says, "just as you look 
like you. But you're obviously kin; you both have my nose, I'm sorry to say. I'm 
glad you take after your mothers, with how beautiful /they/ are. And if you want to 
meet him, we can do that, too, after we have our lunch under the tree."

Ysaeve giggles a little, eyes drooping. "Like my nose," she murmurs. "It makes me 
different, one of the nannies said so. It's /your/ nose, Da." Slowly drawing her 
hand back from Sharath's hide, she drops down to the sand and snuggles against her 
father's shoulder. "You won't make me go to bed, Da?" Another yawn, not so 
successfully hidden. "'Cause...I'm...not...tired." Really.

E'vrin kisses the top of her head. "I know you're not, but I am, and I have to fight 
Thread tomorrow morning with Sharath. /Your/ Sharath may be able to stay up all 
night, keeping away the tunnelsnakes, but mine needs his sleep. D'you think it'd be 
all right if we sent him home so he could do that?"

Ysaeve says, seriously, "You shouldn't be tired to fight Thread; that's bad. 
It's...okay...if Sharath needs...to sleep," she whispers, somehow keeping her eyes 
open. "You'll...come back...and we'll see Telgar soon...when there isn't any Thread 
there, okay?" She struggles to her feet, tucking the bronze dragon under her arm. 
"Love you, Da. I love Sharath too, does he know that?"

Sharath> Ysaeve senses that Sharath's presence is sudden, but not surprising, warm 
like the rumble of his voice through hide into skin; but here, in mind's high 
reaches, the rumble is a flicker of flame, soft against crystal walls and human 
thoughts on the other side. He knows. And then he's gone again.

E'vrin kisses her again and then starts to stand, scooping her up. "He knows," he 
says. "I love you, too, sparks. We'll come back soon, I promise."

Ysaeve's capacity to be wholly dazzled faded with most of her consciousness; she's 
half-asleep against E'vrin's shoulder, but turns a bright smile on the source of 
that equally flame-bright touch. Then: "I believe you. Night, Da."

"Night, kid," E'vrin whispers and takes her safely home.

[And after tucking her in, back he and Sharath go to Telgar:]

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath's mental presence warms near, with a weary 
tinge of it and the hint of 'I'm doing this only because he asks me to and I'm 
feeling indulgent so he won't complain and give me a headache': << E'vrin asks me, 
green one, to tell you to tell your rider that we're right outside your weyr and 
coming in. >>

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth contains her amusement at this undertone to a 
mild greenish glow, overlit by a slightly drowse-fogged reply: << Message conveyed, 
and you're both welcome. Though I'm afraid there's no stove for you to warm your 
weary claws near. >>

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath supposes he'll survive. His rider will be warm, 
at least, and that's at least as good, right? (Riiiiiight.)

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 greatly amused," Kassi informs from her seat on the large, comfy chair, 
riding gear exchanged for her favorite nightrobe: black velvet, slightly worn. "And 
doesn't believe that Sharath thinks that's as good in the slightest. How was 
Ysaeve?"

E'vrin observes, "Lysseth is almost always amused, at least that I know of." He 
thumps Sharath's shoulder and squeezes around the bronze to move further inside. 
"...He'll be fine. Ysaeve is fine. I'm fine. Are you?"

Kassima quips, rising and gesturing for him to take the chair if he so wishes, "She 
often finds Sharath amusing. Actually, she finds most males amusing... you can 
imagine, methinks. I'm quite fine. Finished with the mold in a hurry, lest certain 
parties return, so here I am."

Blowing out an exasperated breath, E'vrin actually abandons his rigid manners to 
take that offered chair and slumps therein, his hands loose between his thighs. He 
cocks a red-veined look up at her. "I'll talk with her ... sometime. I don't have 
the energy right now." He tries to rally: "A lot of females find most males amusing, 
so I'm told. It's the nature of the sexes."

Kassima, after some consideration of the options, elect to perch on one of the ample 
armrests of selfsame chair. "Don't worry about it--at least, nay on my account. On 
your own, perhaps... you *are* tired." So very observant, she. "I can't dispute it 
m'self. But I find nigh everyone amusing regardless of gender, so that's that. 
You're sure that you're all right?"

E'vrin scrubs at his face. Sharath, at least, is discovering the possibilities of 
sucking warmth right out of Lysseth's body into his own, the leech. His rider does 
look tired, if not that desperate for warmth. "Yeah, yeah, or I will be. Getting 
yelled at by Merielan -- and for what, I ask you? -- and then my daughter, my sweet 
firstborn child, asking me if it was all right for her to see me more often, because 
she knows how busy I am..." He trails off. Lost the rest of the thought.

Not precisely adverse to a little parasitism herself, Lysseth: she'll suck some 
warmth right back like a large green lamprey. Let us hope she won't need to be 
lanced. "Secondborn," Kassi absently corrects. "And you told her a'course, m'dear, 
I'm trusting? If'n you're too busy t'see her i'truth, we'll work out something--I'll 
take more of your work for a day so you can go to Igen, you take more of mine 
another day so I can take the children t'Boll. Something like that. Merielan, I 
can't begin t'help with."

"Firstborn /girl,/ I'd meant; I think there might be another one down South...." 
E'vrin loses the rest of that thought, too. But he frowns. "No, I think my current 
schedule's fine. She and I are going to picnic, I promised. I said I'd find her a 
tree to sit under around here. Not sure she's /seen/ a tree before. But we can trade 
off if you want, sure; that makes sense." He slants another look up, darkly 
sardonic. "Merielan's not your problem," he states. "She's her own, and she's 
T'kar's, and she might be K'nan's, but she'd better not be mine /or/ yours."

[Tired player!  Ev and I do know the order of his children.  I made up
 something with Uli, Ev's Southern Weyr watchrider friend, to cover.]

"Uli's?" Kassi hazards, with mild surprise. "Huh--well, while 'tis summer, trees and 
picnics can nay doubt be arranged. Me*thinks* I've heard rumor of a tree somewhere 
in Telgar's lands--and if'n all else fails, there's Lemos." A hand slips around to 
rub at the shoulder opposite her, almost without thought. "She's nay," she accedes. 
"Unless she starts causing too many problems for T'kar; he's still green, he still 
needs t'be watched out for. Hopefully, she won't. And--candidly--I wonder whether, 
if'n they split now, it mightn't be in the end for the better."

"That's what I'm thinking," says E'vrin, sounding grateful -- for the concordance, 
for the rubbing, whatever. He leans into both. "I promised trees and grassy plains, 
you see. Let's face it, I find a stubby bush and a patch of yellowed grass, and 
that'll look wonderful to her. She's desert-bred to the bone." Silence. Quietly: 
"Uli. Maybe. I didn't ask."

Kassima puts her other hand to work on the other shoulder, at the leaning, and falls 
quiet a moment. Thought. "From what you said of Uli, I'd doubt it," she decides. 
"She'd tell you, wouldn't she? Trees and plains... oh, that's easy. Take her 
t'Bitra, if'n you think a meadow might suit. If'n she'd like any trees, she'd nay 
doubt be thrilled with the orchards. If'n the Lady's amenable, y'might even try 
t'catch fish from the stream."

E'vrin muses, "Fishing. That's an idea. She does like Igen's lake." He leaves the 
Uli business there; no place for it here, now. "--That feels nice, by the way," and 
now he sounds wry. "I worried about the kids coming to my weyr and crying on me, but 
here I am, doing it on you. Still, don't stop rubbing."

"That *was* rather the intention," Kassi points out with a note of humor. "I shan't; 
you've had a day, my poor Wingsecond, and it seems a small thing." She shifts to 
better attack a knot. "You're nay crying, either. You're being very sensible. Has 
the lass ever seen snow? You could be bringing her up in winter. Show her how t'be 
making snowmen or some such thing."

You say "If she doesn't freeze solid as soon as she lands in the bowl. I'd have to 
bundle her up like a sausage, the way I sleep here, myself."

Kassima promises, rather ruefully, "You'll get used to it. I may nay come from a 
desert, but nearly from a tropical clime, so I have sympathy. You can always share 
what warmth I have."

E'vrin smiles up at her, more wistful than seductive. "I fully plan on it. Thank 
you, Kassi. Whatever would I do without you?"

"Shrivel up and die, I expect." The reply is facetious; the warmth in Kassi's smile 
down is real. "In seriousness? I imagine you'd cope. You're usually stronger than 
you give yourself credit for."

E'vrin says complacently, "Then you could have L'cher for your 'second, and that'd 
be inducement enough for /you/ to live forever, so he couldn't take over." He 
settles back more firmly into the massage, eyes sliding shut, words drawling 
thicker, with exhaustion, into his native Igenite speech. "I'm a strong person, I 
know that, but everyone has moments of weakness and doubting. Just have to get 
through it, that's all."

Kassima quotes, "'Doubt shatters certainty, fosters despair; guilt harbors weakness, 
and fear makes me blind,'" with a touch of frown. "You are right, though. It is part 
of being human. As is dying, alas, so even L'cher could not give me immortality." 
Disturbing thought, anyway: eternal living through lechery. "Another part of being 
human is sleep, which methinks you need most desperately; can you summon the 
alertness to make it to the bed, d'you think? The chair gives one such a crick in 
the neck."

E'vrin attempts a sad look. "You couldn't carry me?"

"Nay unless," Kassima rather decisively says, "you'd wish t'be ending up in a heap 
on the floor when I collapsed from the weight."

"Blast," E'vrin mutters and heaves himself up. "Well, can't have that. Lead on, 
lady, do."

Kassima offers an arm in helpful guidance, a laugh in quiet mirth. "That is what 
Wingleaders are for," she agrees, leading indeed to the better resting place.

[To bed, to bed, to bed.  Log ends.]