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Beauty and the Beast


Date:  July 27, 2001
Place:  Telgar Weyr's Weyrgardens
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  This is just a quick little Kassi-Is scene that I 
particularly enjoyed. :)  Our Heroine and her sometime partner in crime 
meet up in the night, neither quite ready for sleep despite the late 
hour, and Kassi gives I'sai gifts both tangible and not.  By the way,
Is?  I think you still owe Kassi a present. ;)

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The Log:

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

There are stone walls, there in the dark, lit by high-flying Belior while
Timor hides; and more seeming-stone lumps up, peaks - neckridges - even as
it lumps down, hooded head.

It may be a bit cold for casual travel through these gardens by most, but
Kassi's been an inhabitant of various icy wastes for too long to be much
disturbed; no hood here, nor neckridge, only the eye-exploding jacket
fastened up with pale hands tucked snugly in. Her eyes wander, catch on
those shapes; "Would it be too predictable or Guard-like of me t'be calling
'Halt, who goes there'?" she asks of the dark.

There's an unlidding, from dimmed blue to bright - but it's tenor who
calls, lightly enough, "Praise Faranth it's you, Kassi; and we're not
going, we're sitting."

Kassima repeats with genuine surprise, and genuine amusement, "Praise
*Faranth*? That's something I've never heard anyone say a'fore; I'll have
t'make special note. Mayhaps this will become a personal holiday: 'Praise
Faranth 'Tis Me Day.'" Riiiight. She makes for those brightening eyes: in
the velvet darkness of the blackest night, burning bright, there's a
shining staaaaar.... "Why are you sitting? Are you in hiding from someone
else, and that's why you're glad 'tis me?" she wonders even as she pulls
one hand free to offer a caress to the muzzle that's, presumably, somewhere
reasonably near those eyes.

"Half the world," comes the reply, and a puff of breath - draconic, and
oddly sweet with its lack of firestone - before muzzle sinks dark velvet
into hand, and then away. "Is it the... Which day of tenth-month -is- it?
Dare say I've forgotten."

"Alas, poor Taralyth, bereft of your sulfur," Kassi murmurs to the shadowed
bronze, a thumb running quickly over that velvet before it retracts.
"Probably the twenty-sixth by now." Is there a good place nearby to stand?
She's looking for one, dark hair darkly gleaming as she cranes her head.
"Tell me about it, tell me, tell me. And if'n your story's good, I'll give
you a present."

There's ground before the fence's blunt molars, kept from mud by a series
of flagstones before path becomes garden; but it's -dark-, with only a
single shadow cast. A rumble of amusement might mark the way; and his rider
says, "I never did make a harper, you know. The air's cleaner here; no
muck; but we're in reach if they need... Tell me a story and if it's good
enough, I'll give -you- a present?"

Kassima has an advantage in the tiny jeweled eyes that wink from either
shoulder just now, but her steps are still careful, with a hand held out to
ensure she shouldn't stumble--particularly not into the amused rumbler.
"Warn me if'n I'm going t'run into you?" she pleads, though that doesn't
seem an immediate danger. "--*Ah*, now, that I understand. I suppose you
can have a present anyway... oh, but I have t'be exploring this option
first. What sort of story d'you wish?"

There's no warning - and, as it happens, also no running-into, though she
may brush a draconic forearm should she continue; "Mmm. One -you- think I'd
like - like the best of those you know?"

Kassima leans carefully against a piece of fence, such care giving her time
for thought. "Oh, now, there's a difficulty. Shall I tell you a tale of
Mart's embarrassment? Of a young Wingsecond who was maliciously painted by
greenriders?" Her own blue smudge, still vaguely diamond-shape, is
concealed both by darkness and the fall of her forelock. "Ah, nay. I know."
She clears her throat. "There once was a young brownrider from Benden who
enjoyed traveling very much. He'd swoop t'Boll and blink t'Bitra, dart a
quick trip t'Nabol and get drunk on their cider a'fore shimmying
t'Beastcraft and chasing it down with ale. But for all of that, he was
still restless, until he met a Hold-lass named Bea...."

"Waiting for the punchline," and welcoming amusement inflects the tenor a
full third deeper than its wont. "...Enough embarrassment, I'd say. That,
and a good eve to you too, Lyss."

"You'll get one," Kassi promises, turning her head enough to let moonlight
gleam momentarily from laughing eyes. "And I'll pass the word along... ah.
She wishes you the same and adds 'tis your own fault for falling asleep."
Back to the story: "Now, he thought most fondly of this lady. He'd bring
her jewels and flowers and other such sweet trinkets, always trying t'win
her heart and win her away t'his weyr. Alas, alas, always did she tell him
nay, for every day when he asked for her... well, nay her hand, precisely,
this being weyrmating, but you get the idea, she'd ask him first t'tell her
where true beauty could be found. He never could do it. He tried all the
cliche answers; beauty was her eyes, her smile, her laugh, a newly-born
child, and she simply laughed at him. Until one day, he gave her the answer
in one sentence. Just one. And she didn't say nay t'him that time. D'you
want t'guess what his answer was?"

"I needed the sleep!" I'sai's laughing-quick to protest - but story comes,
story comes, and brilliant blue eyes part-shield to crescent moons as he
leans against dragon's shoulder; "And shard me to the Dawn Sisters if I'd
know something tricksy like that, sweet talk and... Unless it's bea-uty,
something to go with her name?"

Kassima chides all the same, her amusement clear, "But falling asleep
around two tipsy greenriders? How wise is *that*?" One of the great
questions of the world, no doubt. There's the shush of braid against jacket
as she shakes her head, denying his reply. Perfectly deadpan and doubtless
with a painfully straight face: "He said, 'Beauty is in the "Aye" of the
Bea-Holder.'"

There's a mutter claiming no wisdom, no wisdom at all - and as the
punchline registers comes that satisfying, lungs-clearing groan, soon
echoed in deeper register by Taralyth's own rumble. After a hiccup, a grin
white in the moonlight, "He got it, too."

Kassima's chortle is immediate as that groan resounds, and quite
well-pleased; even bordering on smug. "Good," she approves. "Good! See, I
always knew there was a reason I liked him--so do I get my present?" She
could be a child on Turnover; she's hopeful enough. "Even if'n it did make
you hiccup?"

"M-mm-mm - " but I'sai can't draw it out for long, not with that tone in
her voice; "Yes, yes; is there anything you especially want? Not that I'm
-promising-, mind, wouldn't want to risk losing your favor; but, in case."

At least with the night so dark, she can't try to give him the puppy-dog
eyes... even if she does bounce a bit on her feet, boot-soles tapping once
or twice against that stone. "Surprise me?" she wheedles. "As with that
blouse--I like t'see what things you come up with." Pause. "Just nay a bowl
made out of a dead preserved fish, mayhaps? I have one of those already."

Fair brows wing up - "_Do_ you," he marvels. "From whom? And -why-, and
what do you -do- with it?"

"From a Gather," Kassi freely confesses, as her hands begin rummaging in
those pockets. "'Twas in the prize tent, and... well, could you see
something that absurd and nay want t'take it home? Sometimes I put grapes
in it. But 'tisn't the present I promised you. I hope you're nay
disappointed."

"I, er," I'sai swallows, and then says quite sincerely, "I'm not
disappointed in the least." After all, he doesn't -smell- fish live or
dead, ...does he? "That's safe to say, all right. And I'm glad, ah, you
like the blouse. Yes."

I'sai adds, in case, "And thank you!"

Kassima manages somehow to sound deadpan as she quips, "I had the strangest
feeling you might nay be." What's produced, what's proffered, is a small
box, rectangular and relatively weighty; the dark being what it is, it
comes with an explanation. "I go t'Bitra now and then looking for
dragonpoker decks. I collect decks that have me in 'em, y'see. Last trip, I
didn't find *me*, but I did find *you*, and thought mayhaps you'd like the
deck, for luck." How much sense did that make? "A'course I like the blouse!
Benden colors, so thoughtful, and 'twas entirely unexpected. It made
m'entire sevenday."

The grin's that much wider for the praise, boyishly so - and then the rest
sinks in, and in disbelief, "...Me? Bitra?" I'sai widens his eyes in the
dark, the better to receive illumination.

Kassima isn't the quest for the holy grail, to give illumination easily,
and yet she tries. "Dragonpoker cards," she clarifies, rattling that box so
that the cards within give their muted, muffled clatter. "There's a
Wingsecond card; they traditionally use the riders of their Weyr--this deck
has you on the card. Nay the best likeness I've ever seen, but they did a
good job on Taralyth." She grins back in exchange for his, though hers is a
touch sheepish; feeling silly about being a confessed card-collector, perhaps?

I'sai whistles softly, there in the dark - and reaches; and since it is
dark, "Who're the others, anyone I should know? That's... that - I'd not
_imagined_."

I'sai adds, "And I'm just going to say, 'thank you,' one more time - at
least! - for good measure."

Kassima lets the box go free into his keeping, withdrawing her hand to tuck
it back into the convenient pocket. "Oh, Nimiriel, a'course; A'lex on the
Weyrleader card, and for the Weyrling... mmm... A'tari," she eventually
remembers. "Y'know, from the last clutch? Methinks he's still knocking
about in Duskfire. And you might recognize the Lady Filliana, and the
Harper cards at least." With a hesitant smile, "'Tisn't a silly gifting,
then?"

I'sai tucks -that- away into a pocket of its very own, not sharing with the
dice at all; "It's a -good- gifting. Question is, are these to actually
play with, risk bending a corner or two?"

"You could; they might bring you luck, and the wood's fairly sturdy if'n
you don't go beating 'em about or sticking knives through 'em, I've found."
Trust Kassi to know *that*. "D'you want me t'keep an eye out for any other
decks? Methinks 'tis fun t'see how different artists draw you, but that
could, just could, be m'vanity speaking."

I'sai nods, nods, "That'd be interesting, it would - " and then that pale
gaze lifts, considering: "Y'know, Kassi - I know this is a gift; and not to
be too opportunistic, in that spirit, but - you could make -marks- on
these, to people to show to their families. Or to throw darts at. Whichever."

Kassima admits, "I could, I could--but for one thing." She holds up a
finger, the moonlight catching the band of her ring briefly. "I've an
artist cousin who already does portraits and sells 'em--I recommend her
t'people, and in return I get a discount on whatever art I want. If'n I
started selling *other* artists' work, why, that might interfere with our
lovely understanding." Pause. "Which isn't t'be saying *you* couldn't."

"True," and I'sai's silent a speculative moment more. "O'course, if she
drew them, and you were just, oh, the -distributor-... Kassi, Kassi, you've
given me much to think about. And when I'm temporarily not playing 'poker
for Skyfire, too - thank you for third time's charm, and I'll wish you -
yes, Taralyth - a very good night."

"That might work," Kassi speculates in her turn, "and I'm sure there's a
market... I still need t'ask her t'be drawing *you*. For Kiss." Soft
laughter escapes then. "Gives you time t'practice, mayhaps," she teases.
"Always welcome. The same t'you--and," adds the greenrider, with a curious
glance to the bronze at that aside, "Taralyth, a'course; a fine night, and
finest of dreams."

"For Kiss," I'sai says as smiling confirmation - and then buckles the pack
more securely in, and swings up - said bronze is blue-eyed as before only,
now, lightly humming with it - and they're off and away, to dance with
Belior before bed.