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Beggars Can't Be Choosers


Date:  March 2, 2004
Place:  Telgar Weyr's Lake Shore
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:  I came in a bit late to this lecture, which addressed 
the topic of flamethrowers and which Master Allory had kindly offered
to give to Telgar's newest Weyrlings.  Still, I was on time for Kassi
to get to burn stuff, and that's what counts! ;)  Nor was that all, 
for once the lecture ends, she makes a pact with Juliri that only 
proves she really will let people pay her the oddest sums for the 
oddest things.

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The Log:

You fly downwards toward the lake shore.

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.

Allory puts the flamethrower nozzle back together much slower, in a
explanitory kind of way, noting off handedly to the gold weyrling, "I've
notes for you on that bit. You'll want to take it apart to clean after
every Fall, or before every Fall, just so you have the habit either way."

Juliri angles her head in such a way where she can see the mechanics of the
flamethrower a bit more easily, brows furrowed together in contemplation.
At the mention of tubers, Juliri mutters to the bronze weyrling next to
her, "I bet you that he's," a finger is pointed towards a certain blue
weyrling, "going to try the tuber one." The bronze weyrling nods in
agreement while Juls is still paying attention to him, before she nods
quickly at Allory's words. "Alright. I understand."

A few other riders, and weyrfolk, wander over to join the group.

Lysseth is remarkably discreet in her descent, for Lysseth; for any
twenty-five-meter-long harbinger of destruction, for that matter. She's
more a shadowy shape blocking the stars there, and there... and now not at
all, safe on the ground, where her rider can slide down with a faint jingle
and see about moseying on over towards a good place to listen. The green
dragon follows in her rider's wake: fire's involved? She is *so* there.
Rider murmurs a soft good-evening to those nearest, easy enough to miss
should their attention on Allory be suitably rapt.

Allory raises a hand in a wave to late arrivals, "C'mon in, I'm little,
likely hard to hear in the back." Many turns of public speaking has given
her a perfectly audible speaking voice, "Alright. So, we've hit highlights
on what agenothree is, and how the nozzle works." she pauses, "Ah.. point I
forgot about agenothree, unlike firestone which is mined and used pretty
much as taken from the ground, agenothree is made from other ingrediants,
much like how flour and sweetner and such makes a cake in the end. We take
chemicals and end up with agenothree in the end. So unlike the naturally
occuring firestone, every batch of agenothree is the same high quality as
smithcraft can prepare." A laugh, "Shards, I sound like a Trader's pitch
for smithcraft hall. The crux of it, is that you are so unlikely to have to
worry about 'bad' agenothree, as to not worry about it."

I'sai deadpans, "We just don't hand these 'cakes' out at Gathers." At the
wave to arrivals, he turns; Lysseth catches his eye first, and then her
rider, and he waves brightly as well.

Allory grins, "Any questions before we move on to the good bit of lighting
things on fire to practice using the 'throwers? I'm quite sure most if not
all of you have experience using throwers from ground crews, but it's the
fun bit for having sat through all my nattering on about chemicals."

Juliri doesn't notice Kassima and Lysseth's arrival, but Malaith sure does;
the gold is quick to rumble something in greeting, twitching her tail idly
before Juliri swats her on the shoulder to cease those mild vocalizations
and movements. "Oh. So, there wouldn't be any problems with the agenothree
at all? Or, can one batch have something wrong with it that another doesn't
have?"

"I don't think sweetener is *literally* involved in the making of
agenothree," Kassi murmurs from near the edge of the pack, amused, "but
if'n 'tis, someone do me a favor and never tell m'children." She wiggles
gloved fingers right back to I'sai, smiling; Lysseth, less inclined to be
good and sit quietly, angles her neck to see if she can't muss the
Weyrlingmaster's hair with soft muzzle and sulfur-laden breath. "Ooh!" The
greenrider's attention has been caught. Imagine that. "Setting things on
fire! Master--if'n I may be obnoxious and ask just one question... how has
agenothree production been doing, after the explosion? I heard a rumor that
the new facilities are superior--"

Lamorna heads over from the central bowl.

Evienth lumbers in from the central bowl.

Evienth rummbles to the younger dragons as she approches, Lamorna by her
side. The rider gives a quick sulute and a murrmered "High Reaches duties"
to I'sai before settling down to watch just beyond the circle.

I'sai's frowning before he turns and identifies it's Lysseth, she of the
long pine-green neck; the frown eases then, and he mutters something at
her, before pausing to wave with a touch of question but no displeasure
Evienth and Lamorna's way. He quiets, then, to listen.

Lysseth> I'sai whispers "You do like being naughty, don't you? No complaints."

Allory addresses Juliri first, "In theory, one batch can go bad, but we
generally test each batch before we let them loose upon Pern, so to speak.
So the likelyhood of it making it to a weyr is slim. I wont say never, it
could happen, but then I'd have noggins to knock over not following
procedure and making us chemists look bad." she chuckles, "And ideally
/that/ wont happen. If you ever have a thrower that's giving you grief,
find a smith. That's what we're here for, or what I'm here for at least."
she turns to the greenrider next, "Never obnoxious Kassima. Production has
been coming along swimmingly. The new facilities, well, let's jsut say it's
a far cry from when /I/ was an apprentice. But we wont talk about how long
ago /that/ was. Making the apprentices soft, I dare say!" her laugh speaks
of teasing.

Lysseth might just allow a particle of smug to escape, even as she attempts
to nibble at hair too tightly-bound to lend itself to such activity.
Whatever was muttered would seem to amuse her greatly. Her eyes shine blue,
and there's a light warble to him, just before a cordial greeting-rumble
for Malaith--and the other Weyrling dragons, and Evienth, for that matter.
"I'm the last one t'bring up the question of past Turns," Kassi wryly
agrees with the Master. "But the production, that's good t'hear. And 'twill
excuse I hope if'n I don't hope that these facilities blow up *too*, t'give
another chance at achieving the sort of workshop extant when You Were Their
Age." Audible capitals, to go with her grin.

Juliri's mouth makes an 'o' in understanding, and she bobs her head at
Allory's words. "Ah. I see. I was just wondering," she murmurs with a
smile; Lamorna's entrance isn't quite noticed, as the weyrling is being
quite attentive for the moment.

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth, despite temptation, doesn't address
rider directly; she relays an amused message instead, with a gleam and
sparkle of mind that's all for him: << Would you tell yours for me that I
do--much like him, I warrant, on occasion? >>

Allory laughs, "All I need is a cane to wave with that phrase." she looks
around, "Alright, enough old woman rambling, who'd like to light things on
fire? I think I've enough throwers for everyone, if there's not enough,
double up and give each a turn." she gestures, "There's straw dummies set
up, some plain, some with I'sai's artistic touches to them." and indeed,
some have 'hair' added in and some shape to them, "Try for precision. Get a
/feel/ fro the nozzle. Be one with your thower." she starts passing them
out to weyrlings nearby.

I'sai shapes hands over head like a sort of helmet, which makes it most
difficult to look entirely solemn. Especially when his expression lights up
with the whole 'setting things on fire' idea, and he fairly bounces; it's
with reluctance that he steps away from the straw targets to let the
weyrlings have first shot.

Lamorna leans back against Evienth and waves cheerfuly at I'sai and his
weyrlings before grinning at the mention of lighting things on fire.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth glitters merriment right back, << I
shall - and he says he is most unsurprised! >>

Kassima bounces up and down on her toes: she does! She does! She even
raises her hand. Wouldn't her long-ago Harper be proud? But: "After the
Weyrlings," she says, "because they should certainly have first dibs on the
pyromania. I *wish* I'd brought something t'roast, though."

Allory seems to have a plethora of throwers at her disposal, enough for
eveyrone, riders and weyrlings and visitors alike. One, obviously custom
thrower is set aside, smaller than any of the others. A smile for Kassima,
"If I'd been thinking, I should have collected some sausages to warm or
something."

Lysseth meanwhile gives a gentle snort, and nudges I'sai's hand-helmet
lightly before drawing her head back. Spoilsport. She'll get her revenge,
later.

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth shines, all silver-white chased with
blue fire that dances on whimsically pale stick-men: << Now, >> she drawls,
<< why*ever* would that possibly be? >>

Juliri takes a flamethrower as it is handed to her, and immediately fixes
the strap appropriately over her shoulder; Kassima and I'sai's bouncing is
duly noted, and the weyrling can't quite hide a grin at /their/ eagerness.
"You'd think that they'd seen enough fire," she quips to a nearby
clutchmate before pivoting towards a said straw dummy. Doom.

One can never see enough fire, it seems! While that clutchmate laughs
freely, unhearing I'sai wipes off his bemuzzled hands and heads straight
for the flamethrowers once it's more clear that there's enough for all. He
checks it over first, murmuring something about antiques, and pumps the
lever a few times to prime it before actually unlocking what will strike
flame.

Kassima is *all* about curling her fingers around a flamethrower, oh, yes.
Watch her eyes light up. But she doesn't immediately set about playing with
this new and most delightfully lethal toy, not when there are Weyrlings to
watch--with scrutiny and professional interest beneath the bright
half-facade, and particular interest in a certain blue mentee. "We could
have melted cheese over them," she agrees with Allory, with regret. "Ah,
well, next class--"

Allory hefts her own custom miniature thrower, some advantages to being a
smith master, hers is backpack style. "Ooh, melted cheese. Shards, now I'm
getting hungry." an experiemental squeeze of the handle away from people to
get a spurt of flame, "Ahhh, I likely shouldnt enjoy this so much, but it's
/fun/."

Perone seems reluctant to touch a flamethrower. She hesitates only a moment
before stepping up to have her chance. It is awkward to have the machine
slung over her shoulder. She tries her best to imitate what Juliri is
doing. She looked like she knew what she was doing.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth fills out those stick-men to give them
fish-tails and scales; meanwhile, << Your sound is different, now, much
like your rider in some of her moods. >>

Lamorna reaches up and idly scraches Evienth's eyeridges for a moment as
she watches the weyrlings, clearly remebering her own training.

Juliri's flamethrower is tinkered with for a few moments more, before the
weyrling points it towards a certain straw dummy and unleases a bit of
flame, with a bright grin. "Aww, don't worry," she says to a frustrated
brown weyrling, "I've had practice, what with groundcrewing and all." That
doesn't seem to detract from the weyrling's pleasure at watching the straw
dummy burn, which she watches with bright eyes. Malaith, noticing the High
Reaches dragon, rumbles a greeting.

Telgar Weyr> Isawen returns. Is that class still going on?

Telgar Weyr> Dehlan says, "Hi Isa :D"

"Bloody *heavy* things," Kassima comments, with a sympathetic look and
half-grin Perone-wards. "Don't know about you, but as fun as they are
t'play with, I don't envy those who have t'*fight* with 'em...." Speaking
though of play, she's found herself a target and aims the nozzle
appropriately: gold flame licks out, well- if not expertly-aimed. Resulting
in a rebel yell from the greenrider. Nah, she doesn't like fire at *all*.
"There's something entertaining about destruction, I find, Master, but the
moreso when 'tis bright and pretty."

Allory gestures to her smaller sized one as Kassima comments on weight, "I
finally caved and got a custom one made, old bones and I decided I was sick
of pretending I was young enough to haul about a full sized one at my
size." she smiles, "Excellent shots, all of you!" her voices lifts to carry
over the crowd, "With practice, you get the knack of knowing just how much
juice to give it so as to conserve for the whole Fall."

Telgar Weyr> Juliri nods. It's slowly drawing to a close, though. :D Still,
come over if you want to destroy some straw dummies, Isawen.

Telgar Weyr> Dehlan says, "Ooh. destruction."

Isawen heads over from the central bowl.

Aldenth lumbers in from the central bowl.

Perone smiles at Kassima's comments. Caedoth was better then any
flamethrower, and he mindvoices his approval. This brings a wider grin to
the weyrling'd face. Perone faces a straw dummy and mutters. "Good-bye,"
before unleashing a tendril of flame from the nozzle. The dummy is quickly
engulfed in flames. "It is pretty."

Lamorna swings up on to Evienth as the class burns their dummies and waves
"Thanks for letting me hang around."

Kassima comments over the rush of flame as she attacks the poor, damaged
dummy a second time, "You're only as old as you feel, Master! I cling
t'that philosophy most firmly; so if'n a lighter 'thrower helps you feel
closer to, say, nineteen--" Another brief gout of fire follows. "The
workshop where agenothree was made--or stored, at least--burned down once;
that's what 'twas asking Allory about, a'fore. As awful as that was... in a
horrible way, *it* was pretty too." When Lamorna speaks up, she turns to
wave, with some surprise: "Oh, hey, Lyss didn't mention 'Reaches
visitors--bad Lyss! Nay wherries!" Lysseth yawns. "Good t'have you
visiting; sure you don't want t'burn something up yourself?"

Lamorna laughs "No thanks, but thanks for offering." With that she urders
Evienth up into the air

Evienth takes flight, using the thermals rising from the bowl to carry her
aloft.

"Kassima!" Juliri greets, dodging the regular ma'am with a careful glance
aimed towards the circling weyrlingmaster staff; the weyrling then grins at
the greenrider's destruction of the dummy. "Seems you like that," she
comments, perhaps a bit unnecessarily before hitting the button to unleash
another burst of flame that licks at the already charred dummy. A brow is
arched curiously as Lamorna and the green take flight, and right when the
weyrling was just about to call out something to her, akin to 'Have at a
straw dummy'.

Perone has had enough of the flamethrower. "Its not much my style, I must
say." She carefully takes off the machine.

Kassima turns her head to grin Juliri's way--and crinkle her nose, and
comment, "I *should* probably say something about the naming of names, but
somehow all this fire has me in too good a mood... I like fire." Gee,
y'think? "And 'tisn't so often that I get the chance t'produce it, rather
than Lyss-love. But I'd still sooner fight our way than any other way.
How's Caedoth doing with *his* flame, Perone?"

Isawen considers the dummies and the flamethrowers, nodding her agreement
to Perone's statement on the throwers. "Yeah, it seems weird to use these
after so much..dragon flaming." She turns back to a dummy to at least make
a token effort at practice, but doesn't get much of a chance. "Aldenth,
will you -please- back up again? Unless you want to get singed?"

Perone moves her head from side to side. "Fairly well, ma'am. A little more
practice, thats all he needs." She sets the device down. but continues to
watch the others.

Juliri angles her head towards the greenrider before quipping, "Well, would
you rather me ma'am you?" This is said with a good-natured grin, and she is
quick to add a supplemental 'ma'am' to the end of her last question. The
flamethrower is adjusted on her shoulder, and Juliri wrinkles her nose in
Isawen's direction. "Is it? I'm just so used to these things," she
comments, hoisting the flamethrower up a bit more.

Kassima winces openly. "I know there are rules about names, but there's
also the rule about nay ma'aming someone whose title y'know, remember?" she
asks, almost plaintive. "'Wingleader' or 'greenrider' either one will do,
or 'rider,' or 'psychopath,' I'm nay choosy. But that news, that's good.
Does he enjoy the practicing?" Juliri receives a raspberry. "Methinks you
know the answer t'*that*. You seem adept enough with your weapon. Good
thing, all things considered."

Perone nods. "Very much so ma- wingleader." She throws a glance toward her
lifemate. "He makes sure we do it, and do it right." Smiles fondly. "Cae
works us hard."

Isawen casts a wry grin in Juliri's direction. "Definitely. And it doesn't
help that Aldenth thinks his flaming practice should have priority over
this stuff." The flamethrower is shifted awkwardly so she can let loose
flame at the dummy, once Aldenth has retreated back to his spot. Still, he
peers at all the action speculatively.

"I don't think it's a /rule/, exactly, but rather a guideline," Juliri says
with a delighted grin aimed in Kassima's direction. "And, really, I think
ma'am works just as well as any of the other viable alternatives that
you've listed." And look; Juliri just /needs/ to jump at the chance to
tease someone other than M'hon or Yselle. The raspberry seems to be taken
into consideration, before the weyrling springs into action by sticking out
her tongue for a split moment in retaliation. "Do I?" she grins, before
continuing with, "Well.. Fort and Igen have prepared me well, I daresay." A
chuckle escapes from the weyrling at Isawen's words, and Malaith retreats
just like Aldenth, but rumbles in amusement at the flaming of yet another
dummy.

Kassima tilts her head to one side. "D'you need t'be having supervision
t'practice flaming?" she hazards. "Is that why you can't do both at once?
He sounds like a taskmaster," she says of Caedoth, but she's smiling at the
young blue as she does. "Which can be a useful thing, with so much t'do.
Certes more useful than a dragon who wouldn't *want* t'practice. And,
Juliri, I'm afraid 'tis a rule, as in you can be getting assigned the muck
piles for it." The greenrider waggles a finger at the Weyrling in
exaggerated chide. "Or you could during Maylia's day. Would you be wanting
that? Would Malaith? Imagine, poor dragon, having t'associate with someone
who smelled of muck *constantly*; oh, the horror, the horror!"

Dehlan heads over from the central bowl.

Dehlan steps towards the lakeshore, shrugging into his jacket as he walks.
He peers over at..flame? And heads towards the gathering.

Isawen groans at the mention of smelling of muck, letting loose a good
blast of flame at the dummy. "I don't know about you others," her look
takes in the other weyrlings, "but I probably already -do- smell like muck
all the time. The wind just blows it right in... Muck and ash." As she
glances back to make sure Aldenth's still in place, she notices Dehlan and
throws a nod his way. "Hello, Dehlan."

Juliri appears thoughtful at Kassima's words, taking on a ponderous
expression. "Hmm. Maybe it is a rule, and I've just let it slip my mind,"
she says somewhat dubiously to Kassima, shoulders lifted into a shrug. The
mention of muck piles is enough to prompt a grimace from the weyrling, and
she vigorously shakes her head from side to side. "No, Wingleader," is her
prompt answer, before she lays a thumb down on the button. "Oh, hello,
Dehlan." Whoosh. Straw Dummy - 0; Juliri - 3.

Perone chuckles. "Cae doesn't believe in restdays either. Tells me its a
perfect time to 'get ahead'." She shakes her head, and looks over to
Juliri. "Do we need supervision to practice flaming, Jul? I believe we do,
but it wouldn't be the first time I was wrong. Caedoth snorts. "Nor the
last." She echos the blues words.

Kassima blows gently on the end of her own 'thrower, still smoking lightly
in the cold air. But she seems in no hurry to aim it again; she waves it
idly about instead, a bit like a particularly bizarre baton. "If'n 'tisn't
a rule, 'twill beg Is on m'knees t'make it one, and while that might be
*entertaining*... well, for everyone but me... isn't that the finest glory
of *between*? The end of muck-laden couches? Certainly 'twas m'favorite
part." When the others greet the newcomer, she tenders an amiable nod too.
Then, to Perone, "Now that's just cruel and wicked. Nay offense, Caedoth;
I'm just personally a big fan of the resting days. Especially since I've
seen what can happen to dragonpairs who never take one. Mind you, that
becomes more an issue *after* graduation than a'fore; nay rest for the
weary in the meanwhile, hey?"

Dehlan walks over as his name is heard, waving, "Hey Isawen. Hey Juls.
Ma'am." He says to Kassima, "Goodness, what've I walked in on?" He looks
curious.

Juliri aims a /very/ broad grin at Kassima indeed as Dehlan promptly
'ma'am's the wingleader, and the weyrling rolls her eyes as though to
pretend that she isn't ready to laugh. "I want to see you beg the
Weyrlingmaster. Please, please? It would be amusing, indeed," Juls retorts,
in what must be a encouraging tone; she is certainly nodding her head
energetically at the idea, and a very big smile adorns her countenance. "I
don't know if we need supervision. Most likely yes," she answers Perone,
shrugging. "Oh. Flamethrower type stuff."

"I'm going t'have t'make a sign, aren't I," Kassima mutters. "I always
threaten to, but I really *should*--'Ma'am Me and Have Your Entrails
Removed Through Your Nose,' how's that? It has a ring." The breath she
blows out isn't unamused, however. "Or mayhaps I could just hide the knot?
Nay doing, Juliri! Nay doing! I'd have t'want something very, *very* badly,
since he'd never, never, never let me live that down. And if'n I did it in
front of *Weyrlings*? Well, either I'd be ridiculed in legend ever after,
or he would, depending on whether it embarrassed him, and if'n I
embarrassed him in front of 'Lings, can't you just imagine the revenge he
would wreak?" She gives a heartfelt shudder. "He'd send So t'chew my
*eyebrows off*. You wouldn't want me t'lose m'eyebrows, would you? Would
you?" She gives the Weyrlings her biggest, saddest eyes.

Dehlan raises his eyebrows with a grin, "Well..uh..Kassi? If you don't
wanna be called ma'am, I won't call you ma'am." he says, amiably, 'So it's
flamethrower day huh? DO us nonriders get to play with 'em?" He asks,
hopefully, glancing at Juls with a grin.

Caedoth rumbles. Perone sighs lightly. "Cae says its time to go in. Its
best not to argue with him on these little matters." She explains and bids
them all good bye with a wave, and a salute where necessary.

Kassima gives the flamethrower wand in her hand a testing twirl. It isn't
exactly a movement of great grace and beauty, but she manages not to drop
the thing. "Knives are easier," she decides. "--Kassi will do; you've heard
m'name somewhere, apparently? And yours is Dehlan? Thankee for that. I'm
allergic to the word, y'see. I go into violent, convulsing sneezing fits
and break out in plaid. Very unattractive. Methinks the flamethrowers are a
free-for-all, though, so long they're aimed at the targets." She nods to
Perone, sympathetic. "Hard t'argue with something that large. G'deve t'you
both! And g'luck, in your flaming!"

"Would you?" Juliri brightens at Kassima's mention of that peculiar
sounding sign, and she hoists her flamethrower about in an effort to make
herself more comfortable. "No? Not even the slightest chance that you'd
even /consider/ doing it, Kassima?" Now, there's the cue for a crestfallen
expression, and the weyrling looks at the wingleader with mournful eyes.
"Well. You with no eyebrows /would/ be rather amusing. I'd pay marks to see
that, too." Oh! Look! Perone's leaving! A wave is aimed after the other
weyrling, as well as a, "Night, Perone!" A shrug is given to Dehlan.

Caedoth lumbers in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the
shimmering lake.

Perone heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering
lake.

Dehlan watches a few of the weyrlings leave and looks worried, "Too much
talk of knves. Aye, I'm Dehlan, Kassi, pleasure to meetcha. ALlergic huh?
I'd hate to see you break out." He grins at Juliri, "YOu lit anyone on fire
yet?"

Kassima blows Juliri another raspberry, this one, if anything, more
energetic than the last. Ah, immature greenriders armed with
flamethrowers--isn't this a reassuring sight? "Nay even the slightest,
teeniest, most miniscule smidgeon of an iota of a possibi... wait. Marks?
Would you pay marks t'see the begging? How many?" Trust her to be more
moved by the mention of money than the Eyes of Doom and Despair. "There
will be *nay* chewing off of m'eyebrows! We do nay chew on our Kassi, nay
even a little." To Dehlan, she agrees, "You're nay whistling the quaint and
regional melody. Especially since, during an attack, I tend t'think I'm
F'lar and accordingly I try t'stab, flame, or seduce everything that moves.
Or doesn't move. Last time, I stabbed a Weyrling, flamed Pierron's
moustache clean off, and seduced a chair. Hideously embarrassing." Pause.
"The chair still sends me love notes, though."

"All of the marks that I currently possess," Juliri tempts; though that may
not be many, perhaps it'll be enough to persuade the greenrider to beg. At
the raspberry, Juliri again retaliates by sticking out her tongue, and then
giving her a cheeky grin. "No chewing off of the eyebrows? But that would
have been just as entertaining as the begging, wingleader," the weyrling
quips, arching a brow and then wiggling her fingers at her. "What chair? I
think I may have spied something odd with one in the living caverns." To
Dehlan, she snorts. "Me? Light anyone on fire? For me to light someone on
fire.. It would be an honor for them." And it hasn't been bestowed, yet.

Dehlan raises his eyebrows in amusement at Juliri, "Well, uh, I hope to
remain not-honored.' He says, with an amused grin, then he eyes Kassima,
"Love notes from a chair. Riiight."

"And that would be how many, exactly?" Kassima ripostes. Profit! She wants
the profit! "And what d'you want me t'beg for? For you t'be thrown in a
muck pile? There's a certain appeal t'be *paid*, by you nay less, t'beg for
that--wait, wait. You're saying 'twould be entertaining t'chew off
m'eyebrows? Juliri, this is something I just didn't need t'know about
you... I mean, that sort of fetish, that's something you should see the
Mindhealers about." Doesn't she just drip concern? "Mmm. A chair at the
Dawnslight table, as it happens. M'own chair at Thunderbolt's has never
forgiven me for my torrid chair affair." Turning her head back to Dehlan,
she gives a single, grave nod. "A'course, the writing style isn't very
good. Wooden. Y'know."

Juliri eyes Kassima as though she's suddenly grown wings out of her ears,
and shakes her head as she smothers a laugh. "No. My /firelizards/ can chew
off your eyebrows, while I merely sit, laugh, and watch. Not to mention
debate on how long it would take for them to grow back," the weyrling
states matter-of-factly. As the wingleader questions the amount of marks,
Juls replies with "As many as I have saved up during my now-gone days of
being a seamstress at Igen." Pause. "You need to beg something from I'sai.
Your choice, as long as it does not involve me." From her tone, she doesn't
seem to discount the other weyrlings, or the residents, for that matter.
"Ah. I've never sat in that chair." To Dehlan; "You'd better hope so."

Dehlan slaps a hand over his face, "Kassi, you SHOULD be flamed for that
one." He grins ruefully, then trains his gaze on Juliri with a grin,
"Fearsome goldrider, you are."

"Nay deal," says Kassima, shaking her head vigorously. "Nay deal. I like my
eyebrows. I am, dare I say it, even *attached* t'my eyebrows. Nay paying
for eyebrow-loss. And nay paying for begging either until I get an exact
total, because one mark? Isn't going t'do it. I'm many, many things, but
I'm nay a *cheap* bribe!" She tilts her nose up in the air, an arrogant
gesture belied somewhat by her shameless grin. "Produce a respectable total
and I may... stress *may*... do the begging. May. Nor do I recommend
sitting in that chair. 'Twould probably get fresh with you, and you'd have
t'dump beer in its lap, and *that* would just lead to chaos and damp
pants." She mock-primly corrects Dehlan: "Fearsome *Weyrling*. And that's
quite fearsome enough for anyone. But there will be nay flaming me, either!
Nay flaming. Nay chewing. I'm nay food!"

"How many marks /will/ do it, then?" Juliri asks, tilting her head
curiously towards the wingleader; it seems that the weyrling is quite
willing to bribe Kassima without quite letting out the amount of marks that
she has. "I didn't know that chairs had a lap. Hmm. Now, I have to inspect
each and every single chair in the living cavern, just to see which one
seems to have the most stains on it." She nods at Kassima's correction of
Dehlan's words and quips, "Indeed, though I'm not fearsome at all. Quite
harmless, really." Pause. "But, but, but... My firelizards will /love/ your
eyebrows!"

Dehlan mms, "Fearsome weyrling. Right. Sorry. Getting my ranks mixed up.'
He glances across the lake thoughtfully and then taps his marks pouch
thoughtfully, "You guys are awfully gamble-oriented. Bitra'd love ya."

Kassima waggles one hand from side to side. "Depends, really. On how many
you have. 'Twill take all you have; the only question is whether that's
enough, so you're the one t'be naming the price." Nope. Not falling for it.
But pardon her while she chokes: "*Stains*--oh, dear--but beer stains, 'tis
true, they would have those. Fear the chairs. Fear them deeply. They plot
and plan. Your fire-lizards will *nay* love m'eyebrows, because they're
never tasting m'eyebrows, and you are *naught like* harmless." Cheerfully,
she admits to Dehlan, "I'm fond of Bitra--well, or was when Lady Fil was
in. I still stop by from time t'time t'sucker hapless people out of money
or a hapless river out of fish."

Dehlan hmms, "You do the suckering at Bitra eh?" He grins, "Remind me not
to gamble with YOU!" He declares.

Juliri rolls her eyes skyward as it seems all of her talking has proved to
have come to nothing; hands are lifted in a futile gesture, before she
heaves a put-upon sigh. "I've gotten about two ten-marks, a five mark, and
a few thirtysecond marks," the weyrling says, shrugging. "This is what I've
gotten from my seamstressing. Not to mention betting. I've amassed plenty
of marks from candidates who'd lost their bets at the Hatching." As Kassima
continues, Juliri grins wryly, saying, "Not even a nibble? And I am too
harmless. You have nothing to prove that I am not." On the subject of
beerstains, she nods. "I'll fear the chairs." Dehlan is grinned at, and she
shrugs. "I'm /not/ fearsome."

"Sometimes, sometimes. Sometimes 'tis equal-opportunity suckering. But I
sucker oft enough that I keep going. I once beat," Kassi reminisces,
wistful, "Lord Carow at darts... hmm-mmm. Twenty-five marks." She makes a
show of mulling this over, and never mind that it's considerably more
pocket change than most Weyrlings would have to offer. "And in exchange for
all that, I have t'beg I'sai on m'knees for something that doesn't concern
you, on an occasion when you can see? Nay even a *nibble*. And just wait,
Juliri. When you get Yselle pregnant, then, then there will be proof."

Dehlan glances at Juliri with a grin, 'You WILL be fearsome, once you're a
weyrwoman. It's an automatic thing, surely!" He blinks at Kassi, "Wait,
who's getting Yselle pregnant. Shards, you people lead confusing lives."

/Most/ weyrlings wouldn't have it, true, but Juliri has saved those marks
over her lifetime, and also pilfered away the marks of former candidates at
Fort, too. "Yes, you'd have to beg I'sai on your knees for something that
doesn't concern me, and when I can see it. I have to know that you did it,
mind you, or else it wouldn't be a fair trade," Juls points out with an
arched brow and an eager nod. "Ah, yes. However, there's that when." And
thus, she leaves Kassima the option to explain to Dehlan, whom she bestows
a wide grin upon. "No, not fearsome."

"Juliri is getting Yselle pregnant," Kassima announces with flawless
solemnity. "And they shall name the child after me: Kalirielle." And said
child shall grow up to be Queen of the Elves. "Unless he's a boy. Then
he'll probably be Kyselir or something. There may be desperate and
unquenchable love involved in this endeavor, but I'm nay really clear on
that part. Greenriders are more fearsome," she's obliged to add. "By far."
Considering Juliri, she at length extends one black-gloved hand. "You have,
I believe, a deal. Over twenty-five marks t'be paid in full at the end of
my part of the transaction. Aye?"

Dehlan coughs, "Juliri. And Yselle. Well. That'd make some healers very
interested I'd bet." He glances at Juliri amusedly. "Twenty-five?" he
blinks, 'Mmph. Quite a sum."

"True love can do *anything*!" Kassi insists, tone saccharine to the core.

"I've gather it over a period of more than fifteen Turns, Dehlan," Juliri
says, even as she extends her own hand towards Kassima's to seal the deal.
"Agreed. Think of what you're going to beg for," Juliri adds with a sweet,
perhaps none too innocent smile reserved for the greenrider. "Indeed. I am,
and Ys is. I have agreed to name the child that is concieved after Kassima,
in some way or another." Like Kassi, the weyrling's expression is solemn.

Dehlan shakes his head at the two, "Are all Telgar riders as odd as you
two?" he asks, with a grin.

"So *many* possibilities," Kassima murmurs, even as she shakes Juliri's
hand firmly. "I shall have to give this much thought... and just remember
t'use the *K* part, all right? That's the important thing. For now, I must
be off, t'contemplate what I will beg and plead for on bended knees and
with soulful eyes if'n I can swing 'em." She sets her flamethrower down
amidst the rest, with a last fond pat; makes for her dragon, but not before
calling back, "Oh, we're all mad here!"

Juliri nods in agreement to Kassima's words as she shakes the greenrider's
hand, and then releases it. "I trust that you'd come up with something more
than suitable, wingleader," the weyrling says with a broad grin,
straightening up. "And I will always use the K part. Always. Wouldn't dream
of not using it for a child of mine and Yselle's." This is obviously meant
to be a reassurance, and Juls gives the greenrider a parting salute. "I
trust the begging and pleading to be good!" she calls, before merely
snickering at Dehlan.

Kassima returns Juliri's salute with a flourish, and then she's scrambling
up the straps and, a moment later, gone.

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly.
You grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered
foreleg.

<*> Dehlan grins sidelong at Juliri, "I hope you win. I'd love to see
/that/." He murmurs to her, then calls out to Kassi, "Farawell ma'...Kassima."

<*> Lysseth springs from the ground, the air from her wings churning up
dust as she takes to the skies.

You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the bowl floor
to carry you aloft.