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Shop 'Til You Drop


Date:  December 9-10, 2004
Place:  Inner Courtyard of the Weavercraft Hall
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:  Another log that almost got a title like 'Spam (In the
Place Where I Shop).' ;)  Long, long poses in this one, but it was fun!
Kassi heads to Weavercraft to talk to her cousin about a commission, 
and while waiting for him to come to his senses, runs into Cailin 
again in the Courtyard.  Perlne and M'rek also put in appearances in 
this fun scene, which involves more storytelling and even a bit of 
philosophical theorizing. :)  And oh, yes, kilts too.

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The Log:

You walk out into the inner courtyard.

Cailin steps off the garden's path with an older woman who, if one were to
look twice, shares a slight resemblance to the herder. Hair might have once
been close in hue, and height close to matching, though Cai tops the other
by a pair of inches. Mystery solved when the younger of the pair nods her
head and replies to something said by the older, "Aye Auntie. I'll be sure
to tell her t'visit more when I see her. Promise." She stops to receive one
of those hugs that relatives insist on giving, regardless of circumstances,
then the pair say their goodbyes as they separate, leaving Cailin
murmuring, "Tell her like it will do any good."

Kassima, walking out of the Great Hall, throws an amused glance back over
her shoulder towards the structure. "It just seems bad business practice,"
she mutters, more to herself than anyone; she adjusts the drape of her
jacket over her arm, and turns to face the direction she's ambling. Her
steps become a little more quiet when she realizes she's not alone--out of
respect, presumably, for the others' conversation. "Duties to the
Beastcraft and her Masters, particularly those Masters who keep good liquor
for guests," she offers with a flashed grin once the elder woman has
departed. "G'deve, Cailin--wasn't expecting t'run into you. Was that woman
kin?"

"Beastcraft's duties t'Telgar in return." Cailin quips with a grin in
reply, and then slides her hands into trouser pockets as she ambles over,
"Wasn't expecting t'be seen either, not that I can say as I mind." She
pauses to glance after the departing woman and then nods, "Aye. My aunt.
Kaimi's mother, actually. She seems t'think that her daughter isn't by
often enough. Like Kai's not got her hands full enough, eh?" She gives
another grin for that and then asks, "How are you and yours, then?"

"We've both done an absolutely terrible job of being secretive and
stealthy," Kassima agrees, too gravely by at least two degrees to be
serious. "Mayhaps if'n we'd dressed in black and skulked around in the dead
of night instead--and, hey, we're in the best place t'acquire black
costumes did we want 'em. Methinks 'twill skip it, though. Black's too
*hot* for Boll." She follows the other woman's glance with some interest.
"Tell me of a mother who *ever* thinks her daughter comes home oft enough.
'Twill be amazed. I'm well--here t'see kin too, actually, in the form of a
most unreasonable and unobliging cousin. Figured 'twould wait out here
while he takes care of his evening appointment and hopefully comes t'his
senses. How about you?"

"We have." Cailin readily agrees. "Though mayhap we should still gain
ourselves that black, not for Boll, but for raiding Master's liquor
cabinets?" Now there is a far better use for it, isn't it? She gives a
light chuckle, "No mother ever sees enough of their child, excepting
perhaps in the dead of night when they'd rather be asleep." Such things
she's learned in the last ten months, "Seeing kin was actually my secondary
reason t'come. But if I came t'the Hall for any other matter and didn't
stop t'see her?" No need to finish that thought, is there? "Shopping was
more my aim. Not that I have much call for it, I needed an outing just the
same."

Judging by the way Kassi's green eyes immediately light up, she certainly
must think it a better use. "And then when they noticed 'twas missing, we'd
blame it on M'rek?" she suggests only too brightly. "He might nay even mind
so long as we shared the bounty--although if'n we're taking the risk in
acquiring it, we should definitely still get the greater share. Or mayhaps
when they're screaming their heads off and throwing pudding everywhere?"
There's still humor in that, but now of a more rueful, reminiscent sort.
"That's actually m'purpose, too. The cousin I'm here for is a Master
Weaver. I have this idea for a formal dress... Simian would probably be
happy enough if'n I'd come without plaguing him, though. Which gives me one
advantage. Aught in particular you're looking for?"

Walking in from the great hall, a lean girl of 16 enters the tent. Looking
around and seeing patrons, but no weavers with knots, Perlne asks, "Excuse
me, please?"

"Who better to blame than M'rek. He takes it so well. Never was there a
better sport for matters of this nature." So solemnly Cailin says that,
right up until the grin that crosses her features, "And if we take the
risk, then we should have the say on how the split is cut, I'd reckon." But
an arched brow for, "Pudding?" She nods for the farther explanation. "Lucky
you t'have a Master t'call on. None in my family is past Journey rank, for
all that there are so many of them in the craft. But me? Well, just some
things I don't need for once. A few blouses, a few gowns. Something nice,
something wicked. That sort of thing." The voice from behind causes her to
turn enough to give a nod to the girl and sound out with, "Aye?
Beastcraft's duties."

"Fort duties, Journeyman, I'm Perlne, hopefully soon of weaver hall."
Perlne says extending her hand, palm up, smiling to the woman in green.

Kassima's chortle is wickedly appreciative, and entirely agreeing: "He may
well nay only forgive us, but be amused by it all, in the end. Unless they
come after him with Emasculators. I don't think he'd find that quite so
amusing, somehow. Your lad hasn't yet discovered the joys of pudding
tantrums?" Very rueful indeed is that. She assures, if it can be called
such, "He probably will eventually. Y'know, you'd be welcome t'commission
m'cousin. I sincerely doubt he'd deny you. *You* aren't the one who just
bought a gown from him a few months agone and haven't worn it nearly enough
t'show off his fine work yet, in his opinion. What sort of wicked?" She
might've asked more questions, but she too is distracted. Turning, she
semi-echoes in a friendly tone, "Duties t'you and yours--did you need
something?"

Looking at the rider from Telgar, Perlne answers, "Well met rider! I am
needing something, but not sure you can help." Surveying the situation, an
uncertain look as to whether the rider is a weaver or not by her question,
"I'm looking for a Journeyman or Master Weaver. But at this point I'd take
anyone who knew their way around," her voice raises hopefully.

Cailin slides a hand from her pocket to complete the greeting, offering her
own to cross palms, "Journeywoman Cailin, well met." She waits on an answer
to the greenrider's question, rather than asking one of her own and turns a
wry grin to Kassi, "No. I can't imagine he'd like that. But Learan at least
likes him. So he's likely save about the Hall unless the Craftsecond takes
a dislike to him." Funny how craftmasters get called by their name and
their mother's don't? She shakes her head, "No. He likes his pudding too
well, in truth. But his vegetables? Not a taste." She gives a smile for
that, "Aye. I might well take you up on that. But he might not be too
thrilled with me wearing things enough either. Not much call for fancy at
the Hall. Last I wore there was for the Craftmaster's handfasting. --
Wicked, wicked." Turning back to Perlne then she adds, "Ahh, well. My
Aunt's a Journey, but I'm afraid you just missed her." And she nods to the
hall doors.

M'rek moves out of the great hall to the north.

Kassima gives a regretful shake of her head. "Only capacities I serve here
are model, customer, and one of Craftmaster Katlynn's favorite
torment-victims," she reports, with a quick grin. "M'cousin's a Master, but
he's in an appointment with someone else. Don't know the Hall that well.
But I might be able t'give directions, depending on what you're looking
for." Brows lifting, she wonders of Cailin, "Is the Craftsecond's opinion
of that much weight? A'course, I've heard about her being his mother...
vegetables. Mayhaps he'll fling vegetables, then. Intelligent lad. Good
priorities. You're after things you *don't* need, though, aren't you?" She
holds up an index finger to emphasize the point, and adds a grin for good
measure. "So a fancy gown might be just the thing. He really does make
other things, though. A'course, he might try t'talk you into painfully
bright colors."

Crossing the palms of Cailin, her smile of remembrance, catching part of
the conversation, recognition of a child's ways. Then looking at Kassima's
finger and the comment of gowns/not gowns, "Looking for something in fine
sisal?"

"Model? My parents used ot make my sister and I do that. Not sure why they
wanted more than Am's for it. She always liked that sort of thing more than
I." Cailin says that lightly enough, but for the other her face becomes
more impassive a moment, "The Craftsecond's opinion matters greatly of
course." But that passes with talk of her son, "He is awfully smart about
it. Clever lad." Of course she'd think so, "Right. Things I don't need. I
so rarely spends those marks I saved. But not much too bright, I don't
think. Maybe a hint or two..." She glances again to Perlne and nods, "I've
always favored sisal myself, aye."

Kassima, for her part, gives another headshake. "I'm thinking more a
velvet, if'n I can talk Simian into it. For the gown--if'n I buy aught
else, 'twill probably be clothing for the kidlets, and they'd just make a
mess of velvet. Probably on purpose and for the sheer joy of doing so." Her
eyes roll skyward in loving exasperation. "But I forget m'manners, I'm
sorry. I'm Kassima, green Lysseth's. They *made* you do it?" she asks,
turning towards Cailin again. "That would rather take the fun out of it...
I've had good luck with it so far. I'd be leery of modelling now, though.
Too afraid of what Kat might try and have me wear. Does he speak yet?" she
asks, on the subject of Cain. And: "What colors d'you favor? More of the
green? I rather like that blouse."

[Editor's Note:  Perlne got disconnected here.]

"I've not had much call for anything in velvet as yet. Do you really like
it so?" Cailin looks thoughtful for that, then wrinkles her nose good
naturedly, "Aye. Well. We were the oldest of the girls, so they made us
their victims until I was about her age." She nods after the departing
girl, "Then I made my escape to the Craft." The original escape, "I've not
modeled in an equal number of turns by now." Another smile then, "Aye. At
least a few words, mama, papa and the like." She glances at the short she
wears and smiles, "Maybe something in this hue, and something red. I'm not
apposed to blues, browns or greys." Then a crooked grin as she drawls out
the last, "Or black."

Kassima waves after Perlne, too, and shifts her jacket to her other arm so
that it can suffer the additional heat for awhile. "I love the texture and
warmth of it, though 'tis a rotten choice for anywhere hot. Mostly I like
the texture. Soft, sleek... and its gleam can be relatively subtle. I
wonder if'n I'd have liked modelling as a lass." A moment's consideration
of this question leads to a nose-wrinkling much like Cailin's. "Probably
nay. I'd have felt shy. Which isn't t'say I've always wanted t'go out
there, in some of what they've put me in; but usually they're kind. Oh,
which word was his first?" The speak of colors gets a thoughtful nod, as
she glances at the other woman's eyes and hair. "I'm nay an expert on
coloring, but 'twould think all those would suit. Green, black, red, blue,
those are all good by me. And there's always violet." Her own grin has a
touch of mischief to it. "Have you considered violet? That you favor black
somehow doesn't surprise me."

M'rek strolls in, looking around. It's almost a casual kind of movement but
for the tension around his neck and the alert quality to his eyes that only
slightly offset his rolling gait. Those who know him will wonder how long
he's been on a bender because there something to his face that speaks to
late nights and not much sleep. "High Reaches duties." The greeting is
drawled out and then seeing women he recognizes..and maybe was even looking
for, M'rek draws near.

"I'd not thought about the warmth. Not much call for that around the Hall."
No velvet, no fancy, how boring? "Maybe I'll see about at least one gown in
it, for variety of course." Cai pauses then to regard the greenrider, as if
for the first time, "I'd bet they'd have loved to have you modeling about
the Hall here however. You've the build. Am's and I were then well suited
for the where we were. High Plateau is hardly a center for high fashion."
Then next answer is the expected however, "Mama was. Followed close by no."
Shocking! "Aye. I like the darker tones, but they don't always favor me,
some do. And some are just classic." Violet earns a twitch of her lips
towards a quickly covered grin, "No. I actually have none of that colors
ranges in my wardrobe, other than one side of a reversible cloak I never use."

"Telgar is aught but temperate." Kassima speaks with resignation and a
certain, almost-fond disgust. "Although summer really isn't so bad. If'n
you favor both brown and red, russet can make a nice velvet... or royal
blue... or black... ach, stop me, or 'twill speak of it far too long. Do
I?" Surprise, pleased surprise; this must be something she doesn't hear
often. "Well, thankee. High Plateau is where you're from? Ah. That's a
shock upon shocks, that is." She says this in a perfectly deadpan way.
"Black does favor almost anyone. The gown I had in mind is primarily black.
Truly told?" Her eyes go wide with mock-surprise. "What d'you know. I'd
have thought, for some reason, that you might fancy purple. It does seem a
color you could carry." Movement catches her attention; she turns towards
the source, and calls a cheerful, "M'rek!" Pause. Now, she might not know
him all that well yet, but chances are she's had at least some experience
with benders. "Duties, a'course. Are you all right? You look a bit...." She
trails off and lets a vague hand gesture entirely fail to finish the
sentence for her.

M'rek holds his arms out, hands palm up in an open gesture that goes with
the expression of false innocence, "Aye. I'm all right." A lie then,
"Kassi, Cailin. What're you doing, shopping? I'm not going to wish I were
deaf before the sun finishes setting, am I?" He laughs then, clearly
teasing them both.

"Much like Bitra," Cailin starts to agree, until she hears that tell tale
voice, and gives a welcoming smile, looks at him a bit closer, for Kassi's
question, but only replies, "M'rek. Beastcraft's duties. And aye, shopping.
but we can try not t'bore you." She shifts a little, her chin lifting just
a hair as she resumes answering on the other, "Russet might be nice... And
yes, you do." She assures Kassi, then nods, "Aye, it is. My parents chose
to reside there to be close to my mother's kin. I suppose I should take
Cain t'see them, sometime." So she hasn't, yet. "Black, midnight blue, I
have. Rose tones, and steal greys, but I suppose I could wear the other. I
just haven't." Like all the rest of the flock?

Kassima surveys the bronzerider for a long moment. "And Master Learan's
favorite female ferret gave birth to the first ferret-chicken crossbreed
and scandalized the world this morning," she drawls. "I don't *see* any
broken bones though... aye, I confess it: you've caught us shopping. For
clothes. Oh, horrors. But if'n you want t'distract us from speaking of 'em,
you could always shop with us, and mayhaps try some things on for us?" Now
it's her turn for false innocence and as winsome a smile as she can muster,
which would doubtless be moreso were she not trying to suppress amusement.
"Well, I don't know about *soft*, for Bitra," to Cailin. "Aye, though. Do
they know of him? And haven't plagued you on and on about visiting yet?
You're the lucky one. Steel grey... that'd make a good velvet. And
a'course, 'twould seem you scarce *need* t'wear the other."

M'rek reaches for a chair and turns it around so that he can straddle it
and rest his forearms over the back, prepared to stay it would seem and
listen to the talk of clothes and colors. He grins and says, "I wondered
when that ferret was going to hatch." He leans back a little and pats over
his chest in an extravagent gesture, "No broken bones." And there's not a
bruise on him that anyone can see. "Try on some things? I guess I could use
some new socks or something. Though. The old ones only have some holes."

Cailin cracks a grin for Kassi's comment, but quickly dampers it, "The
world will never be the same with that cross in it." She pauses then, "They
know a little, but not everything." That she admits. "Better they don't
know it all." Which leaves it vague on what they do and don't know. "Aye.
Steel grey would look quite nice in it." Her grin returning to note, "Need
to? No. Nor t'be part of the crowd, no. If I will wear it, I'll wear it for
other reasons." She arches a brow M'rek's way, looking him over, "Aye. I've
seen you worse." Not saying by how much with that, "But still. I think
you'll need better than hole-less socks t'patch this up, eh?"

Kassima meanders over to aim an experimental, testing poke at M'rek's chest
herself. "Hmm. You're right, I don't hear any of that tell-tale grinding of
bone fragments against each other or aught," she reports, regardless of
whether he let her poke him or not. "Nay that 'twould put it past your
bones t'grind sneakily. What's brought you t'Weaver, anyway?" Looking back
over to Cailin, she flashes a grin back. "You don't just whistle the quaint
regional melody. And just wait until the ferret-chicken breeds with a
runner, next generation... ah. Hmm. Well, you'd be the one t'know," which
is a nice, vague comment. "Point t'you: 'tis better t'wear a color because
*you* fancy it, most like. What d'you think will do the job, Cailin?
Trousers? A kilt? Or something of a more liquid nature?"

M'rek leans back to the chair and nods his head a little bit, "Aye. Maybe a
little more. I guess I could get a shirt." He laughs as Kassi pokes at him,
"See. I'm all good. Just got a little too much going on in my head of late.
I was checking on Cailin and they said she was here. Figured I'd come take
a look around and see what was up. Ah. Liquid. You're talking my language."

"Ack, no! Nothing chicken around my runners. Make it an ovine instead." Cai
gives a mock shiver, then a grin, "Oh the color I like well enough, but
nothing like wearing a blazing sign if I took to purple, even if I only
wore it to go with my complexion or the like, eh?" Oh how complex these
things can be, hm? "A shirt would be good, but he should at least let him
see him in a kilt if we're going to be trying on gowns." Evil, "sounds like
you need a distraction or two, then. Eh M'rek?" She glances down, then back
up to say a bit quieter, "Was feeling a little caged, and had t'get out,
just a bit, eh?""

"Mayhaps a black sisal shirt...." Kassima's still in Fashion Mode. "Ah,
well, you're in luck. You may be in time t'stop me from corrupting her into
buying velvet she doesn't need. So your runners like *ovines*, do they?"
She's far too innocent for that misunderstanding not to have been
intentional; more seriously, "Aye, point. Black or grey might after all
suit better. Or something completely different. But I am certes *all* for
M'rek in a kilt." And cheerfully so. "Either now, or later, depending on
the nature of the distraction. Kilts really aren't the thing t'wear when
you're drinking; too much chance you'll fall off your chair and show Marcus
everything you've got. Nay that I know this from personal experience or
aught." She flicks a brief and sympathetic look for the last, but offers no
comment.

M'rek rests his chin into the cup of his hand and looks from one woman to
the other with just his eyes. "Feeling caged, huh? Aye. I can understand
that well enough." He shifts his eyes from Cailin to the Greenrider then,
"A kilt? One of those skirt things? Aye. Doesn't seem like I need anything
else written about me on the wall in the lava lounge." A chuckle comes from
him and then he suggests, "Something that stands out from purple would be
good. Given that there's likely to be a back drop of purple at any formal
Bitran event."

"Ack, no!" Cai repeats, "My runners like other runners. Let the
ferret-chicken thing have the ovine." And with out missing a beat, "That's
the point though. I -want- t'buy something I don't need. Might do me some
good, eh? Considering." She grins then, "You can just try it on for us, not
have t'wear it t'the lounge. And you would look good in black sisal..." She
pauses for the last, "Not likely I'll get t'the next one, or the one after
for it t'matter what gown I *would* have worn to any formal event at this
rate. If something doesn't change the Craftsecond's mind."

Kassima's affirming nod is enthusiastic. Of course it is. "They're good for
a man's virility, y'know," she coaxes. "Lets circulation run free or
something--I forget exactly how Kiat explained it. But you need t'live up
t'your Lava Lounge legend now. The Lounge walls tell us that he's nay
impotent," she adds oh-so-helpfully for Cailin's benefit. "What color would
you suggest for her, M'rek? For curiosity's sake. A ferret-chicken-ovine
could be interesting. Then *it* could breed with a cross between a
tunnelsnake and a llama...." It's probably for the best, all told, that
this woman is not and never was a Herder. She lifts a lone brow at Cailin.
"Ah. This would be the Craftsecond whose opinion is of such weight with
Learan?"

"I like black well enough. But on Cailin. I dunno. Maybe a rich brown or a
red?" What does M'rek know about colors on people? Not much obviously.
"Would that make it the other, other white meat?" For the hybrid beast, and
then, "Not much of a legend, just means I'm a regular guy."

"I wouldn't have thought he was, but don't mind me if I decide t'let him
test it with someone that would cause the man less trouble than I." For
that Cai's amused, as for the breeding prospects, "You already got into
Learan's liquor cabinet, eh?" She sobers to nod, "Aye. The same. She's off
determining if things might right enough to let me have my life back in my
own hands. And the prognosis isn't good." She shrugs as if it doesn't
matter, then smiles, "I had thought at least something red. But mayhap not
the velvet. What do you think, Kassima?"

Kassima snaps her fingers and points at Cailin. "See? Russet. Russet
velvet. Could trim it in black, or gold for that matter, and... I don't
think I'd want t'eat a ferret-chicken-ovine-tunnelsnake-llama, personally.
It just doesn't sound appealing. Besides, what kind of wine would you serve
*that* with?" Always asking the important questions, is Kassima. "Quite
understandable," she then assures Cailin with droll humor. "And Faranth,
nay. If'n I'd been drinking Learan's stuff, I'd be dancing around the
courtyard singing carols of joy. Is it... normal for a Craft t'be deciding
such things?" No judgment there--yet--just uncertainty; she's clueless. Her
head tips to one side, thoughtful. "Red's always good, whether deep or
vivid. Deep would probably be better in velvet. If'n nay velvet, you could
go with cotton a'course, or... you said you favored sisal. That's nay bad
color for it. Insofar as I'm any expert, which I'm nay really."

[Editor's Note:  M'rek also had to discon, alas.]

"Ahh, well. Elinore would know the right wine, I'm sure. After all. That's
about all she manages on most days. Not that I'd ask, mind you. I was never
as keen on dissecting the wines I drank." The herder quips and then
considers, "Maybe in russet then. I suppose that would need to keep until I
had a style set though. To aid the choice." Her grin resumes it's place as
she winks, "That it might. Quite good stuff that. Shame it isn't brought
out often. But he likes M'rek, as I said." And saying that, she sees the
other rider distracted and she says quietly, "The craft doesn't impose on
Weyr or Hold matters, unless it involves a member or members of the craft."
She shrugs again and then nods, "Deep red would be my preference, though I
like mauves too."

Kassima slants the Herder an amused look. "This being the woman who
wouldn't drink the milk? I can't say there's aught wrong with studying
wines when I'm a novitiate in that art, but there's something t'be said
against limiting one's palate t'just the one thing." Her eyes seek out a
bench nearby; she sinks into it, and sets her jacket beside her. "Faranth
knows the Weavers will be glad t'show you patterns. Isn't it just! I really
must make sure I always have M'rek with me, whenever there's a chance of
meeting Learan," and she starts to give the rider in question the hopeful
eyes, but abandons the effort when he seems too distracted. "I do wonder
what's bothering that man," she murmurs to Cailin. "May never know. Impose
on Weyr or Hold matters, mayhaps nay; but isn't it an imposition on you
if'n they're deciding your life for you, for criteria other than where
you're needed or would best serve? Nay that I profess t'understand how
Crafts work. Nay really." She drums her fingers against her lower lip.
"Deep red. Aye. With garnets for jewels, mayhaps, did you want the accent."

"Elinore finds the study of wines and poetry to be of high importance in
Hold management." Cailin replies, "And aye, no milk for her delicate taste
buds." After a moment, she moves to sit as well, "Aye. I figured they'd
have the best selection. And I would like to blow a mark or two, t'be sure.
What's the point of having earned them if all I ever do is save them all.
Wouldn't mind blowing a few on that fine vintage of Learan's too. But aye,
do so. M'rek won points with Learan the day he brought me back. Flying me
straight and all. Taking such careful care. He was there when Cain was born
too, did you know?" She puts her back to the back rest and looks up at the
sky a minute, "He'll tell someone, when he feels it's the right time, right
person. But we may never hear of it." That with a nod, "They want what's
best for me. And while I have a say, in the end it's his choice. That's
just the way of the craft. They take care of me, but in turn, I am but a
part of the whole and expected to do what I'm told." But the last brings
her back to wistful, "Don't have anything with jewels. Garnets, you think?"

The sound Kassima makes is decidedly amused. "While 'twill grant her that
the study of wines could actually be useful--given that Bitra produces a
very fine golden wine, and that selecting wines is occasionally a hostly
duty as I understand it--'tis scarcely, 'twould wager, of such high
importance as matters of finance or justice or what-all else. A'course,
what I know about Hold management could fit with a porcine in a poke.
That's m'view on marks too. Some are for saving, but now and then you need
t'enjoy them... or what good are they?" Not that the amount of jewelry she
wears suggested a strictly frugal lifestyle anyway. "Now, if'n you find out
from him how that vintage can be gotten, I do hope 'twill pass word along.
There's a place I'd be thrilled t'blow a few marks of m'own. That's the way
of it? As protective as Learan sounds, I can understand why 'twould earn
points--and I didn't know." She darts a glance towards the rider, and has
to smile. "Good of him. 'Tis a brave man who stands by a woman's side
during a birth. I hope he finds someone t'tell, even if'n 'tisn't either of
us... mayhaps Rodric; that'd be m'guess." Back to other subjects. "I don't
think I'd have wanted that life in the end. I'm bound t'obey too, a'course,
to a degree--m'rank does grant me some limited authority--and sometimes
that chafes, but I could always transfer if'n I found the restrictions
truly unbearable. You're a grown woman... but, well. Mayhaps 'tis better
than nay having anyone concerned for your welfare. Nay that I'm saying
'twould be so for you, just in general. That's a lonely way t'be living."
What somberness existed in the last statement is driven away by talk of
jewels. "I'd think so. Most rubies are too bright for a good, dark
red--with exceptions, a'course. You'd want the red garnets rather than the
orange. I fear I'm a bit in love with jewels. If'n you like, I can hook you
up with another cousin, a Master Miner, who's also annoyed with me, but in
her case 'tis because I dared mention 'discount' and 'black diamonds' in
the same sentence."

Cailin waves a dismissive hand. "Let the wine stewards know. They are paid
to do their jobs after all. But she uses the knowledge, not to make the
right selection so much as to lord over others how vastly skilled she is in
that one area." She shrugs again then, "It just seems a waste to me, but
then, I suppose if you have the marks to be idle.. And yet, if you are
incapable of doing naught but give orders. Wouldn't you think it a boon to
be somewhat considerate of those who you have working for you?" Clearly the
Herder and the would be Lady have different work ethics. "I rarely splurge
on things that I don't need. But there are times it's nice to have a little
treat." Which might be one gown, not several. "If I find out, I'll do
that." She assures, then nods, "He's protective of all his herders. It's
just, well. I seem to have been a particular thorn in his side since he
passed me and made Journey rank first." And now he's Craftmaster and she's
still journey. Oh the irony? "He was. Someone had to be there, just in
case. And it was good of him. He's done a lot for me. More than I'll likely
eve be able to repay. Aye. Rodric would be my guess too. I'm glad he was
able t'find such a friend." With that shift of topic onward, "Aye. grown
women that got used to having things my way. Vorlin spoiled me. Truth be
told. Not so much in the manner of expensive gifts, but in raising me up
the equal or better for a taste before my return to the Hall. Not that I'd
undo it. But it makes it harder to just do as I should some days. And
sometimes having people that are concerned, still is little comfort." She's
quiet before she goes on, "I like garnets, I think. Better than rubies
anyway. And red over orange, to be sure." A smile there again, "I'd like
that, I think. After all. It would be a splendid thing to have. You do like
to annoy your cousins though, don't you?"

"True enough," Kassi acknowledges with a dip of the chin, "but it never
hurts t'be knowing things--well, unless that's what you do with the
knowledge. She really does sound a prize, this one." Understate things
much, Kassi? "'Twould, for the practical reason if'n nay other. Hard t'get
the best work from people who hate you... unless they respect you at the
same time, and I don't mean 'respect' as in 'fear.' Anyway. I'm certes nay
going t'argue against splurging now and then. Spending yourself broke can
be a poor thing, but if'n you have it t'spare--why nay? Who doesn't deserve
a treat once in awhile?" Ah, the song of the born capitalist. "Huh. So he's
protective of the thorn in his side? Odd man. Mayhaps he'd miss that thorn,
were it gone. In case...?" There's a quirk of eyebrow there, a silent
seconding of the query. "He does seem a good man overall from what I know
of him. And so am I. Glad for both of them, that they can be there for each
other." Onward, ho: "That's an easy place t'be spoiled. When you become
Master, whenever that is, will you have a bit more say? I suppose unless
you're *the* Master there's always someone who'll have power over you.
Which, between you and me, I occasionally can't stand. I don't know that
I'd want t'be responsible for the whole Weyr--but I loathe it that someone
could, say, restrict me to the ground while I'm pregnant unless I have an
escort, all for a whim and because they outrank me. You can't have the
power without the responsibility, or shouldn't, but. Doesn't make it gall
much less." Her low chuckle is genuine as she moves back to gems.
"Actually, I prefer t'keep 'em happy with me so that I can try and talk
them into lowering their prices. I just can't seem t'help m'self. I imagine
Sythriva and Simian occasionally get together to discuss what a pest I am.
Have you any other stones you like?"

Cailin wrinkles her nose, "A prize. Well I suppose to some. If you like the
kind that you can't turn your back on. And I for one, would never want that
sort of employ. T'work for someone that I had no measure of respect for."
So much that says, "Ahh, well. I must have a care, that I don't over do. My
fortunes smile upon me still, but the wind could always change tomorrow,
could it not? So splurging in moderation." Now there's a concept. "Ahh,
well. Mayhap the thorn was not so much sharp, as nagging. Never meant
t'cause him trouble. I just wanted my own place in the sun. Didn't have
t'be my own garden." Herders using plant analogies. What next? "In case.
Being who Cain is, in case. And he is a good man, if troubled with more
burdens than any one man should have to carry. And to be sure, despite my
intentions, I'm not the easiest of them -- Running off like I did tonight,
well." She gives a wane smile and then nods, "Aye they do. And aye again.
Very easy a place. When held in his regard. When and if? I suppose I might.
At least it would be another notch of security, if nothing else. A Master
can be more than the Journey, after all. And as much as it all might chafe
at times, he is a good Master to have, if you must have one." She nods for
the last, "My family like as not does about me. They do about each other as
it is. And others? Amethysts, sapphires, emeralds I suppose."

Kassima supposes, though she looks dubious, "There are some who enjoy the
excitement of danger and uncertainty, and I can even see the lure m'self in
a sense, but... I don't know that I'd want danger and uncertainty in *that*
quarter." No need, perhaps, to specify which quarter. "Nor would I. Nay
that one always has a choice about that. There you speak wisdom; 'tis
m'thought that the best thing t'do is build up some reserves, if'n you
can--nay that I always paid heed t'this idea when 'twas younger--as a
measure of security, and nay touch them, but spend what you like of what
other money you have. When you have children, a'course, there's the wish
t'see 'em with some legacy too... one of *those* thorns, then. Got it."
She's amused, yes. Her dark eyes gleam briefly in a brighter green.
"Doesn't seem so much t'ask. And if'n 'twere in danger then--well. Shells.
It makes a horrible sort of sense, but I don't envy you that worry on top
of all else in childbirth. M'rek's a double blessing then. And he didn't
seem upset with you for the running--mayhaps, next time you need a time
away, you could ask him t'come with you? Or I could. If'n 'tis just
physical protection you need and nay the protection of whatever his
particular status is." This last is said a touch wryly. "'Twill take your
word on the regard thing, methinks--and there's a truth to that. There'd be
great repercussions in raising one's hand to a Master, one might think." An
amused snort ensues; the greenrider quips, "Ah, families. That's good
taste--a'course, I'm biased; those are some of m'favorites too. I'm partial
particularly t'emeralds, a'course, but that's t'be expected. Opals are also
fair. Mayhaps particularly black ones. More dramatic than the white."

Cailin sighs softly, "I just know some see it. I don't see the allure of
her myself, but then. I suppose some would say Vorlin is of a similar
cloth." Which means, she sees it, or she doesn't? "It was suggested to me,
by someone whose advice I've come to trust." Then a grin with an arched
brow, "Aye. One of those thorns. No. I was never one to put him in real
harms way, or try and turn his head. I just have always wanted my space, my
place, I suppose. Had it for a time too." Her dream at least, and now made
bittersweet, "It might have been fine. Might even have been fine in the
tunnelsnake nest it should have been, But why would a soul take chances
with their child?" A slow nod, "No. I don't think he was upset. He knows
what it's like t'be caged, after all. Even if it was one of a different
making. And if I might be so honest? I'm not sure what it is any more,
protection wise that I need. I suppose it depends on what I get in my fool
head t'do. He is my guardian though. Your right on that count." She gives a
slow smile, "Aye. It can be an intoxicating place." -- "Security in rank,
to be sure. There are only so many masters at any given time. I never
needed it before, but wisdom says it might be worth the gain." She
considers the last, "Opals are rather nice, I agree on those. As for
emeralds, well. I liked them better before I associated them with Her."

"Of the cloth that wants danger and uncertainty?" Kassima questions. "Or
the cloth that *is* danger and uncertainty? There are certes different
types of danger in this world." To say the very least. She leans back
against the bench, draping one arm over its rest, and listens. "Might have
it again. Or might find another place, depending. That seems less likely
than the other... if'n it truly makes you miserable, being away from there,
then Master Learan might do well t'ask himself whether he's really doing
you a kindness. There are those who'd sooner risk their life for a sort of
happiness than live safely without it. Don't ask me who'd be chancing it--I
don't think I could, or would." Her head tips to the side a little; she
must ask, "What cage was M'rek in? Aye; well, nay problem in that. Probably
'tis wisest t'trust t'him t'be your protection rather than any other...
intoxicating. That matches with what M'rek's said of him, aye." As for the
question of security, it gets a most emphatic nod. "Rank can bind and
constrict, but it does provide benefits too, and that's one. It might be
good t'gather every bit of security you can. Her." A blink. "Which her?
Vahara? She's worn green every time I've seen her."

"That wants it, or is it? And if he is, then does that make me of the same
bent that wants after all? I've stopped trying to puzzle that riddle out
long ago." Cai sighs softly, looking up at the sky again, "Might. Could.
Maybe. If? No security in that either. I've always liked trusting in what I
knew more than that. But Master Learan knows my wishes. And for now I keep
close to him, to remind him as much as stay safely in his shadow. I don't
wish to be safely tucked away somewhere out of sight so it can all be
forgotten. I gave away simple, and to take it back would cost me too much
now. So I wait in this cage, partly of my making. I do think that Learan
will do what's right for me. I'm just not sure we'll agree in right all the
time. But there are times that more than one life is at stake with the
decision of one." She smiles slowly, "You don't see it? He has several.
Some old, some new." But she doesn't explain farther. "I trust several with
it, but there are levels, and then levels of trust." And her smile deepens
a moment, remembering. "You just need to be with him, when things are
right, and you'd see. The whole room is charged with it. Everyone knows."
Then a nod once more, "I had all I needed, until I reached for more. And
now I almost need more, to secure what I have." -- "Vahara? Shells but no.
Aye she wears green, but she's different. No. The would be Lady, as she'd
like all to believe. She had an emerald necklace that caused a stir when it
was, ahh, misplaced for a time. M'rek wanted me to wear ti at one point, as
an amusement."

Kassima rolls her shoulders in a vaguely helpless sort of shrug. "Is it
such a bad bent even if'n you are? Part of me misses flying Threadfall. I
don't miss m'Wingmates being in danger, but that edge of risk, excitement,
for *us*--I do miss that. What does that say about me? Life calls for some
excitement. And by the sound of it, your life has otherwise been stable,
with much in it that's work and duty. Wouldn't surprise me if'n you did
want something different. Nay t'be implying that's all you see in him. I
really don't know the man and doubt he could pick me out of a lineup; all I
can do is theorize." She offers the Journeywoman a rueful half-smile. "Nay
security in ifs. True. I don't think there's much chance of being forgotten
so long as the Master stays reasonably wise instead of a fool; 'twould be a
foolish thing t'forget what place you still hold, and whose child your son
is. But I know what you mean, I think, in part. I wonder how many lives are
at stake on your particular corner of the gameboard." It's a rhetorical
question, sort of; it has to be, yet she sounds thoughtful, as if really
considering the answer. "--I really don't know him so well as that, y'know.
Might guess a few: he mentioned being owned by Vorlin; that's a cage.
Duty's a cage, Faranth knows. Being a rider can be both a cage and the
greatest possible freedom. Your conscience can be a cage if'n you're of a
sort t'rail against it. How many of those he feels as cages, I can only
guess, and likewise how many others there might be. As to that--aye." Which
is all she says, for the moment, about trust. "Perhaps true. As yet I've
nay been so... whether the word would be unfortunate or fortunate, I don't
know. Think you that's nay always the way of it? Only mayhaps 'tis nay true
that you had all you needed. Some things, we need, and may never know until
we have them. D'you nay think some part of you might have needed what you
have now? Ah--then I'm guessing," she says of Ladies, "that you mean the
crazy one." She toys with her own necklace by reflex. "Did M'rek take it,
then?"

"No. I see your point. I suppose we all need a little something that
reminds us were alive that way. I never considered him so much of a risk.
But others think it. My sister for one. It's why I haven't taken Cain to
meet my parents yet, I suppose. My risks are my choice, and enough people
try and talk me out of them." And it's Cai's turn to smile as she looks
back, "He notices things. You might be surprised who he could pick out if
he had a cause to." She hmms softly though, before going on, "Learan's no
fool. And I have faith he'd remember. Both who I and my son are. But he's
also a man with his own family, and the extended family that is our Craft.
It's better for me, to stay in his sight, for now." she pauses again, this
time more weighty than before, "I suppose the count depends on perspective.
Nothing is ever so straight forward as all that." She nods slowly then,
"Right, and right again. And the cages we see. Well some of them are more
tangible than others, on any given day. The state he was in when he
arrived? Something is weighing on him again. A cage, but of what sort?"
Sitting up, she folds her legs beneath her before adding, "I had what I
wanted, and needed. Then I saw there was something missing, so I filled
that place, at a price I'm still paying. I'd still make the purchase at any
rate." Her lips quirk up in a crooked grin, "Her. Elinore, the toxic one.
And aye, a fair bit crazy. But no. he didn't take it. Just had it in his
possession a spell."

"One could argue," Kassima agrees, "that without *something* like that, we
aren't really alive. Sleeping through life, or some such. It doesn't
necessarily have t'be danger, but something that stirs the heart, mind,
blood--y'know? Feh, stupid question; a'course you know. Mayhaps you're the
one correct about the level of risk. In a dynamic like that," let's hear it
for careful word choice, "'tis hard for anyone, 'twould think, but the
parties directly involved t'*really* understand where things lie. Anyway,
isn't it a bit late for your kin t'talk you out of your son?" She seems
momentarily amused by the idea. "Mayhaps if'n you took a guest with you.
M'rek, or something, as escort. Any chance they'd be less apt t'nag in
front of company? I always hope 'twill be so with m'mother." Pause.
"Stress, a'course, 'hope.' Well, and I might be," which agreement comes
readily enough. "I'd be hard-put t'think of a reason why there'd be cause
to, more like. Mmm... aye. If'n he calls you family then he might nay act
in a rational manner always. As we've already discussed tonight," she adds,
sharing a wry grin with the Herder, "families aren't very rational. I get
what you mean about the cage. There's something holding him...." She frowns
in thought. "Or something that *isn't* holding him, that should be. Could
be a cage, could be loss of a safety rope. I haven't heard aught that
should have him acting thus... but, well, he's m'main source of gossip,
isn't he...." This is murmured almost more to herself than to her
conversation partner. "Anyway. You'd be the one t'know. I sort of feel that
if'n you have what you want and need, there shouldn't be a piece missing,
but then I've never been in the place where I *did* have all I wanted or
needed. Some things are certes worth the purchase. There's an old saying
whose pragmatism sometimes appeals t'me: 'Take what you want, and pay for
it.' Always there's a price. But the only way t'get what you want is t'be
willing t'meet it. So why," the greenrider simply must ask, "did he have
it, if'n he didn't take it? And what did she do t'turn you off emeralds
forever, when it went missing?"

"True. Wouldn't have to be danger." Cai agrees readily, "And maybe to me,
for me it's not. Not really at least, when things are right. -- My risk,
well. It isn't the same one they see. Or at least most of them. Maybe a few
see it true, but they are the same one's that don't feel the need to say it
to let me know they do. And Aye. I've not been too straight forward about
things I kept private. Maybe now, I still should say less than I do,
but..." She shrugs, then grins. "I expect they wouldn't try that, no. But
other things, mayhap." She seems started by that next idea, "You know. I
have no idea how they'd be with a guest there. I've never brought anyone
with when I did visit." She'll smile for the agreement, but answer on the
next, "Never heard him call it so, but that's how it looks to me he
thinks." She sits up straighter then, "The loss of... Shards, but I hadn't
thought of that. I hope not that... but maybe." It takes a minute or three
before she shakes her head from her thoughts, "Always a price, aye.
Always." So simple a summary there, "Hmm? Oh, not forever. Not entirely.
Just they sort of remind me of her just now. That's all."

Kassima speculates, with the hesitance of one not sure she knows what she's
talking about, "The danger towards you might lie less in and with him than
in parties connected t'him? Toxic, crazy parties, for example?" Such a
random example. Really. "Or there's a question of emotional danger whenever
you tie yourself t'someone, a'course... well, but sometimes keeping
everything private gets wearing." She offers a wry and sympathetic grin.
"I'd guess 'twould be better t'be honest with your family. As much as you
can be. You could try it? At the very least, if'n 'tis very much a trial,
you can commiserate with whomever you bring with you about the horrors of
it on your way home," she supposes, eyes twinkling a moment. "Given his
protectiveness, I'd warrant you're right. Especially since he does have
actual family in the Craft. Would he likely have seemed in worse shape if'n
'twere the loss of a *major* rope?" Back to the tentativeness, yes. It's
fairly clear that she's curious, but reluctant to ask too directly--at
least as yet. "*Everything* has a price. Well, if'n 'twould make you more
comfortable if'n I took m'emeralds off while we talk, let me know. I don't
particularly *want* t'remind someone of a toxic, crazy person. Crazy I
might well be, but 'tis hopefully an eccentricity of a less objectionable
sort."

[Editor's Note:  Here's where we broke off for the evening.
The RP and scene resumed the next RL day. :) ]

"Aye. That could certainly be said." Cailin says carefully, adding, "Toxic,
crazy parties, are the type that are more and less then they seem." Then
more hesitation, "There is that possibility as well, I expect." Expect, or
know? She leans forward then, resting her hands, palm down on the beach on
either side of her lap, "I try not to lie. It's not a trait I'm fond of
encouraging in myself or others. My family will hear the truth, when I tell
them things. But sometimes it's better to stay clear at such times as
these. I'm not even sure who'd want to go with." Then, softly, "But
sometimes such protectiveness is just yet another cage." She bites her lip,
then shakes her head, "I shouldn't speculate too much on what it might be.
Like as not, right or wrong, my guesses he might not appreciate." She
smiles then, shifts again to wave off the offer. "No. No. Keeps them on.
They suit you. And I like them well enough, just the others better just now."

Kassima repeats, rather thoughtful, "More and less. Or mayhaps exactly what
they seem--only one might underestimate the depth of the truth? 'Crazy'
being a term 'tis easy t'underestimate. Or overestimate." She'll incline
her head in acknowledgment to the other possibilities, but not press
further on either. "I'm nay beyond lying at all. But I prefer nay to in the
*important* things. I'm nay going t'blame you for the staying clear--what
of M'rek, then? Or your Craftmaster? Would either of them come with you?" A
pause. "Would it be a cage for the ones being protected, or the protector?
Mayhaps both?" Perhaps. The greenrider shifts again on the bench,
uncrossing and recrossing her legs. "He might only be amused by 'em, but
'twill nay pry if'n you'd rather nay. Whatever 'tis, that's a man who seems
t'have surviving and dancing his way out of situations down to a mastered
art. All right, if'n you're sure--and thankee for the suiting. Lysseth
agrees, naturally. I'm sure Sythriva could find you plenty of stones that
aren't emeralds. And a thing about jewelry is that you can, depending on
the piece, wear it even while you're doing something ordinary, unlike a
Gather gown--as a reminder in midst of work that there's more t'life than
the purely practical, if'n you wanted one."

"There are many forms and levels of crazy, I think. And I've seen a few of
them by now. Her number I have, that one. But that doesn't make risk null
and void." Cailin says then nods as well, "There are times it matters not
to. I'd just rather that if I need t'tell the truth, people will believe me
when it counts. And I like t'know that the people I have to count on are of
a similar cloth. That aye, when it matters, its what it seems." The
suggestion gains it's consideration and then a shake of her head. "I don't
think it best I try and take the Craftmaster, though M'rek might not be so
bad. He already knows a sister and a cousin of mine, I think." -- "The
cage? Oh for both, I expect. Now that you ask." For the next, a simple,
"I'd rather." Then a slow smile, "But I'll admit, he's a survivor if I ever
met one though." She sits back again, her smile softening, "I like that.
Something to wear that's a reminder, every day. A pendent perhaps?"

"A'course nay. Understanding how and when Thread falls doesn't mean it
can't kill you." One of Kassi's hands drifts to rub absently at her right
leg as she says that. "And crazy's even less predictable than Thread was.
Arguably. 'Tis truth that if'n 'twere known for untruth, people would be
slow t'put faith in your words if'n they didn't know you well. Though there
are truths and truths." After a moment's reflection, she agrees, "Meeting
your family probably wouldn't help him feel any *less* protective, come
t'think on it. Strange, isn't it? That someone would build their own cage
that way. I expect we do that more oft than we realise, at least at the
time." Her expression slides back towards amusement. "Aye. Immortal,
remember? Someday t'father half of Pern, and all that. A pendant might be a
good choice--rings are handy, but the work might make 'em less practical.
What think you, a sapphire? Or garnet?"

Cailin gives a nod of agreement, "Precisely my thought." A half smile
,that's more than a little wry for the rest, "Far less so, in many ways.
And yet, there is a challenge in the trying." Back to that risk thing
again. "Aye. Truth is as bound up in multi layers as anything else. And I
rather think you have the truth of it there. Meeting my family. Especially,
meeting my sister. Well that isn't apt to help my situation." She hmms
softly and nods, "Aye. I suspect we do have enough cages of our own making.
Even if we over look their presence, so that we don't feel so confined." A
chuckle slips free then and Cai nods, "Aye. In a kilt, if we have anything
to say about it." Helpful they are. "Not a ring. I'd have to take it off
too often. -- The Amethyst. I think. Or the garnet."

"As much as I tend t'enjoy some challenges," Kassima mutters, making a wry
face, "that's one I don't know whether I'd care for or nay. But then, I've
always liked risk best when I thought 'twas likely t'come out on top of it
in the end." Well, of course. "Your sister," she repeats. "She's the one
you said saw particular danger in your choices, aye? That surely wouldn't
help. Although seeing how protective Learan is might at least console
*her*. Some cages we might still choose, when all's said." With a rather
affectionate smile that's probably prompted by the thought of those of whom
she speaks next, she adds, "Such as motherhood. Or friendship. Or love. Ah!
Now *there's* a lovely thought, but I do hope he *washes* that kilt from
time t'time, if'n he's going t'father half of Pern in it." She makes a face
of exaggerated disgust, eyes gleaming with merriment. "If'n he looks as
well in it as I think he might, 'twill at least explain *how* he sires that
half. Mayhaps both? A garnet surrounded by small amethysts. Or an amethyst
surrounded by garnets."

"Ahh, well. When there was some inherent safety in the challenge... Well.
It can be amusing." Cailin might well have an odd sense of fun, maybe.
"That sort of risk was always my preference too. And if I didn't think I
would..." She runs back to the hall? "Ami. Aye. She doesn't approve of
Vorlin." Now there's a shock. "She didn't even like my posting to the Hold,
so I'm afraid I didn't even tell her about Cain. But I hadn't though about
that. That Learan might at least reassure her..." More consideration, then
a slow smile, "Aye. I wouldn't do away with all my cages. Just because one
or two are too snug." She covers her fase with one hand as she giggles.
"Aye. I would hope he might. maybe we should see that he as two." One from
each of them? "We do have to help the cause after all." Do they? Oh, why
not. "Both? Well... Maybe. If the hues were complimentary."

Kassima's grin suggests she might understand, at least somewhat. "A bit
like brawling, then, in a way. You can lose and even be hurt, but
*probably* nay anyone's really going t'try and kill you. Probably." No
one's calling the greenrider's hobbies all that sane either. "Withdraw your
chips? Or play on and hope? I don't know which I'd do. Might depend how
deeply 'twas into the game. Did Amilin know him while he was Steward
there?" This thought may just have occurred to her. "I've heard some about
that, although nay all the details. She's in for a surprise if'n she still
hasn't heard about the lad. Mayhaps the better thing would be t'take Learan
*and* M'rek, at least t'see your sister, so that you could have a proponent
for each side?" She grimaces, though, and says, "But that might more cancel
out the good of each than buttress, for all I know. Two kilts! Now there's
an idea." One which clearly delights her. "Mayhaps one of 'em should have
purple in it? So he has nay excuse nay t'wear it at a Bitra gathering? That
might be a sight and a half. We should *absolutely* do that, and then we
can pantomime swooning at him or something." There's a mental image for the
ages. "Dark red and purple? If'n the purple were also dark, 'twould think
they might be. An unusual combination, but the more striking for it."

"Something like that." Cailin agrees, but then she tends to spar verbally,
rather than wit knives. Not that the one isn't as risky as the other in
Bitra. "Sometimes one has to take the safe route. And I've always been more
likely to place my marks on things I know. And Am's, she takes less risks
than I. Other than a few of the bigger gambles. But aye. She knew him then.
She and her weyrmate both spent time poking in his business, in turns."
Something, judging from her expression, Cailin didn't care much for. "Oh.
She knows. M'rek told her when he discovered I was pregnant. I'm sure he
told her it was a fine boy too. As did her brownrider friend. She couldn't
travel then. But that might be a way to go, aye." She shrugs for canceling
then grins, no, laughs, "Red and purple for one, blue and black for the
other?" Poor M'rek. Poor, poor M'rek. "I've always been fond of the darker
tones."

"If'n you never take the safe route, you're bound t'lose more than you'd
like eventually. Still," Kassima says, reflective again, "I've felt the
draw t'lay everything down on one hand, or one throw of the dice, y'know;
let chance decide all, and then roll with what you're given. Nay that I
usually *do* it. Else I'd probably have precious few marks left. But every
now and then... bigger gambles, such as having children and whatnay? I
recall that she has at least one." The further comment on Amilin wakens her
curiosity, which is probably no surprise. "Poking in his business. That
sounds potentially interesting and dangerous. D'you know the story of this
whole coming-back-from-the-dead thing? M'rek said he'd tell it t'me when
next we met--seven or so meetings ago. There are always distractions."
Usually liquid ones, most likely, knowing these two. "'Tis a bit surprising
t'me she hasn't come t'see you. Mayhaps a good thing if'n you think she'd
influence Learan, mind, especially given this business with the
Craftsecond... I *like* that," she announces in glee, of kilts, and makes a
show of rubbing her hands together. "He'll look smashing, and *surely* he'd
nay be so uncouth as t'refuse a gift. Or refuse t'try on a gift so the
givers can see whether they fit, hmm? I like the darks m'self. Dark or
vivid, or both; with a few exceptions here and there."

"I'd rather not lose." Who would? "Not what I've already won. but sometimes
you could lose it by not risking as well." So may circles Cailin could take
this, "I thought more of standing for that dragon she has. Rather than
going to Weaver like she was suppose to. Fighting Thread, and the like. But
aye. She has three now. The third spared me from a lecture or two. I owe
that little girl a favor or two. As for dangerous poking? I'm not sure that
it was, or wasn't. But there is the undeniable fact someone died. But how
or why? Aye. I expect M'rek would know more of the tale than I could tell.
I tend to judge Vorlin on what I know of him. not what I've heard." That
explains a thing or two? "She was pregnant when she found out I was. It
kept her Weyr bound for some time. Though she did see Vorlin once, I
gather, during that time." She pauses there, nods, "Maybr I'll see her
soon. Maybe she'll see him. Maybe a lot of things. But it seems as if, if I
want to go home again. It's Master Kristine that will influence the call."
Another shrug, as if it doesn't matter, but then why would she fret it? "He
surely can't refuse a gift. I say we get him a pair, to be sure. -- Aye. A
few exceptions."

"Who would?" Just call Kassima a mindreader. "But aye. Or if'n you don't
lose, 'twill at very least nay win. 'Tis difficult t'win aught when you
refuse t'play. Standing as a gamble?" One might think that idea hadn't
occurred to the greenrider before. She blinks at it, in fact, turning it
over in her mind, before finally giving a soundless laugh. "In a sense I
suppose 'tis--and then again, 'tisn't. Impression has always seemed more an
inevitability t'me than a risk, for those who do it--riders are born for a
dragon. But there are other riders who'd take a different view on it, t'say
naught of others. Three? Felicitations t'her, then. Especially if'n one's
recent." A bright smile crosses her face before the subject of death comes
up. "Someone died. That part I'd nay heard. Is it known whom, or--ah, well,
I don't know that I judge at all yet. What impression I have is formed
almost entirely from hearsay, since I *know* very little, and may never.
Which might be the better for me. Knowing would seem t'be the better for
you. Did she? Grounded? So he went t'High Reaches?" She speculates after
that pause, and after a pause of her own, "'Tis sounding as if'n it might
do you good t'speak with Master Kristine directly. Mayhaps more than
Craftmaster Learan, come to that. Think you we should get him aught t'go
with it? Or would just the kilt be enough?"

Cailin shrugs, "Ahh, well. What do I know of such matters? Am's is the only
one in the family line to Impress. And me? Well they stopped and gave a
good sniff often enough, but always went on by. You'd think though that
Am's would have a better opinion of Vorlin though, considering her green
tried to search him once. He turned her down of course." Imagine. "Recent
enough. Alinn was a few months behind Cain. But I'll pass it along." A nod
of assent, "Someone might know who. I never asked of it. But all the
acusations I hear of Reaches are as flimsy as 'They followed him for
tapping on walls' or the like. I've never heard of any evidence that any
wrong doing done was his." She shrugs a shoulder for that, "One of Reaches
Hold's, I gather. Not sure about how that came to be, considering." Then a
shake of he head. "I can't. She's at Bitra now. Evaluating. And I can't go
there with out permission, an proper escort, something." -- "What else
besides the kilts would you think? Socks he said, but how dull. A shirt was
mentioned too?"

Kassima suggests with a wry grin curving her mouth, "About as much as I
know about breeding and training runners, mayhaps? 'Twas the first in a few
generations in m'line t'be Impressing. And then a few cousins followed me,
and one of m'daughters. Her green--Dasmareth?--tried t'*Search* him?"
Surprise widens her eyes, genuinely for once. "Search him. Lord Vorlin as a
Candidate? That... would probably have been a sight and a half, though
there I'm going again by what I've heard." In this case, what she's heard
might be accurate enough. "One would think the Conclave wouldn't have
approved his Holding did they think him a murderer. Was it clearly murder?
Was the man found with his throat slit, or--? I'll have t'be begging pardon
for the uncouth questions. 'Tis an odd thing t'be asking about, but stories
like these, you don't hear every day." So one might devoutly hope. "Back
t'Crom?" she theorizes, on the question of Holds. "And... ah. Permission
that I'm guessing the Craftmaster would be disinclined t'give. Could M'rek
serve as your escort there, though; mayhaps convince him a visit would be
safe? A shirt might be a thing. Though I don't know how sisal would go with
a kilt." She rubs her chin thoughtfully. "Wonder if'n he could be talked
into wearing only the kilt. That might look interesting. Mayhaps if'n we
got him very drunk."

Cailin's grin is wry in acknowledgement, and amused. "So far none of the
rest of us have followed her path. Course I'm too old t'even get those
second glances now, but aye. Dasmareth searched him. He was still a Steward
then, of course. And this was turns ago." It might have been, but Cailin
moves along, "I believe it was thought he was the victim, for a time. All I
remember of the tale was the clothes looked to be his, the body
unrecognizable. And it'd been tossed from a ledge." She only shrugs. Could
be agreement, or just she doesn't know. "I'm not sure, but I expect he
wouldn't. Not with out good cause. Mayhap he'd let me go with M'rek. I'm
not sure if M'rek would take me though, for that matter..." -- "We could
get the shirt, just to get a shirt. Wouldn't have to go? And I'm sure it'd
help further his prowess if he went shirtless, aye."

Kassima can't entirely resist the impish impulse to suggest, "Mayhaps Cain
will, when 'tis his time. That seems the sort of thing that could turn all
High Reaches on its ear." And that, it would seem, amuses the greenrider
greatly. "How vastly interesting. I really will have t'be plaguing M'rek
for tales of those days--'tis just unusual, Stewards at Weyrs becoming
Lords elsewhere; people dying; people thinking *they're* dead; M'rek
bringing them back from the dead, if'n I understood what he meant aright.
Which might nay be so, given how much we'd drunk by then. Anyway. You think
nay?" First one black brow rises, then the other joins it in thoughtful
surprise. "Well. Could be worth the asking, at least, just t'see. Failing
that, mayhaps M'rek could try and bring the Craftsecond t'your Hall t'visit
with you if'n she'd be game. There's a point; mayhaps a good shirt would
balance out the wicked kilt." Her nod of agreement is decisive. Then, "Aye.
Although that note on the Lava Lounge wall may do all the furthering that
his prowess needs."

Cailin snorts in reply, her hand going to cover her moth again as she fails
to mask her amusement, "Oh shards. But that would be something. I'm not
sure they'd survive that much better than the prospect that Vorlin might
have been." The next puzzles her in turn, "M'rek bringing who back from the
dead?" Then a slow nod as she sobers, "Aye. I think he'd prefer I didn't
go. Mayhap I'm wrong. Mayhap. And I suppose I could ask. I suppose he could
try. I'm not sure how long there is, all things considered." And
satisfaction then, "There. Balance good for amusing. How could he refuse?"
But then she pauses, "Note on the wall? You've mentioned this before. What
note, what wall?"

"Might depend on what he grows up t'be like, but in any event, I sure as
shells hope I'm still about when he's of age if'n it *does* happen. I want
t'see--or at least hear about--the fireworks." Kassi's eyes glint in amused
anticipation. "What d'you think the Lord would make of it? Methinks 'twas
Vorlin he brought back. If'n memory serves. That's one reason I'm so
curious about that particular story, if'n you ken; how oft d'you hear
someone say they've brought someone back from the dead?" The Herder earns
another surprised glance then. "How long there is for what?" she wonders.
"I don't think he *could*. Oh, 'tis the Lava Lounge wall--have you ever
been there? The walls have all sorts of messages scrawled on 'em. Some
drunken soul wrote 'M'rek Is Nay Impotent' on a wall one evening. So now
the entire world, or at least the portion of it that drinks there, can rest
assured that M'rek is a manly man."

Cailin shakes her head a little, but then her words are careful. "If it's
what he's meant to be, then I suppose it will happen. But there is much in
life to be enjoyed without a dragon at your side. My concern is that he
will be happy with who he is. Not who he will be." she adds after a moment,
"Lord Vorlin's thoughts, I wouldn't hazard to guess." More diplomacy? But
she's blinking, "I think that's a story *I* want to hear as well." She
pauses then, smiling lightly, "Before the Craftsecond come's home, of
course." And going on she adds, "He surely couldn't. But no. I've never
been to the Lava Lounge. Just heard the name in passing a few times. Mostly
from M'rek I expect." But her crooked grin shows for the last, "Someone
wrote that? On the wall? My my... He will be legend."

Kassima admits after a mid-length pause, "I'm going t'have t'be taking your
word. I do think you're right, and m'hazy recall is that 'twas happy a'fore
Impression; but I've lived almost all m'life with m'lady, and that makes it
hard t'imagine life without. I can imagine you'd nay want him dwelling too
much on a future that might be uncertain. Or... possibly thinking too much
of himself, based on a may-be? Like a certain Weyrleaders' daughter we've
discussed? Though, y'know, I ran into her nay so long agone and she wasn't
actually rude or aught." Amused, "Mayhaps I caught her on a good day. I
propose that we try and get the story out of M'rek when we give him the
kilts. Aye? We can drink, and get him into a skirt, and cozen stories out
of him, and hopefully distract him from whatever's weighing on his mind
that particular day." Her nod is understanding, enlightened. "Ah. Then if'n
naught else, 'twill be seeing her at the Hall soon enough. You really
haven't been? M'rek's never taken you? Shells and shards, but the man's
derelict! You really should see it someday, if'n only t'read that part of
the wall and snicker. I'truth, 'tis at Boll, and so nay even very far from
here." She snickers outright at the last point, nodding gleeful agreement.
"Very much so. A'course, the unfortunate thing is that the lady who wrote
it did write it just that way. 'Nay impotent.' So I keep thinking people
are going t'think *I* wrote it."

"Seems like, t'me at least, that some people... And I count myself in this
number, but some people follow the dream until they realize one day, that
t'get there, they've bypassed other things that might have made them happy.
Me? I was happy with what I had. I had my dream job, in a stable full of
some of the finest runners marks could buy. And aye, I want that back, but
I want out of this cage too." Cailin wrinkles her nose, "I just hope he
never becomes anything like that one." She grins wickedly then, for the
next. "Aye. I'm up for that. We'll order him the kilts, a shirt. And then
take his mind from his troubles. I'd like to hear him laugh again, and mean
it, if you know what I mean." she shakes her head then, "By the time she
returns to the Hall, I expect she'll have made up her mind on the matter of
Bitra." She pauses again, this time to bring back her smile, "M'rek's never
taken me anywhere but from Bitra to the Hall, Kassi. And there I was
t'stay, at least for a time. Shards. This is the first time I've been away
from the Hall that wasn't hall Business. And a fair bit of that was with
Learan himself. I'd like t'see it though. Truthfully." A brow raises,
"Someone wrote it t'look as if it were you? Oh my. And what does our dear
M'rek think of it?"

Kassima is silent for several beats. She in fact leans back against the
bench, turning away from her conversation-mate for a moment to consider
this; she's been thoughtful more than once this evening, but this may be
the first time she's truly been pensive. "Mayhaps," she finally says.
"Mayhaps 'tis so. Mayhaps 'tis only when one abandons the dream that one
can see what opportunities are right there, aye? And yet... without a dream
'twould think life might be horribly empty. Something t'aim for, t'hold the
thought of close when there's naught else t'be sustaining one. I don't
know." She lets the thought drop--or covers it, at least--to grin sidelong
to Cailin and quip, "I doubt he *can* with you his mother; I imagine him
getting a stern tongue-lashing any time he prances about with his nose in
the air, somehow. I'd like t'hear him laugh too. Though methinks his
laughter was genuine when we got drunk and played the prank on Rodric. Did
I tell you about that?" Reluctantly, she has to nod for the next point.
"You could be right. You certes know the woman better than I do. Shells...
t'be in one place that long--I don't think I've been in one place *that*
long since I left Greystones. If'n M'rek's thinking 'twould be all right
for you t'be attending a concert, surely a jaunt here or there so long as
he's willing t'escort wouldn't be impossible. As for the Lounge, nay reason
nay t'see it--we could go now, I imagine, if'n you'd truly like to, or
another time if'n you'd fancy. 'Tis worth the seeing. I don't know if'n
'twas *intentionally* meant t'look like me. More that... well, I suggested
the writing, I *think*, and they took me a bit literally in the wording.
M'rek seems t'think it terribly amusing." He would.

Cailin waits quietly. She's not the pushy type when it comes to these sorts
of things, and when she replies, it's soft, "We need the dream. But the
dream comes with tunnel vision sometimes. You get to see the beauty on the
other side of the mountain by passing through it, but you miss the beauty
of the mountain. Rather like a trip *between*. Have you ever flown
straight, just to see the land, rather than making the jump? You still get
to the same place, but with the one, your richer for it." She smiles then
at the image, "Aye. hope that's the case. That I'm enough. I'd never
thought myself the mothering type, except to a herd of foals. But..." But
now she is one, "...Played a prank. This was when you found the healer's
stash? Sang to him aye?" She waits a beat for conformation, then moves on.
"Truth? I'm not so sure of anything these days. Just the last word I heard
made me see the cage again, the bars so clear, the key sliding out of the
lock. But I do think Learan would let me go with M'rek. He likes him, as
I've said." She considers a moment, "Another time. I think. But I
definitely want to see. Just I didn't plan this trip with the intent to be
gone too long." She smiles though for the last, "Aye. He would."

"There's that, but what if'n being distracted by the mountain means the
passage t'your dream caves in before you, because you waited too long? And
there are some things you couldn't have, and still have the dream." Kassima
pauses. "And there are things," she has to acknowledge, soft herself, "that
you have now, that you might nay, if'n you'd reached the dream already. I
have, while 'twas pregnant or on sweeps or every now and then just t'*fly*.
The richer depends, though, aye? Because if'n 'tis a good trip--the weather
fair, the scenery good, then certainly you'll arrive wealthier for what
you've seen. Sometimes though the rain's pouring down and there's lightning
cracking above, or all below you's a muddy mess, and the struggle leaves
you cold and soaked and ill." She seems to hear the hint of old bitterness
in her own voice, because it lightens considerably: "And aren't *I* just
the little ray of sunshine of a sudden. Never mind that. For what 'tis
worth, I didn't plan on children either--had I told you that? And mine,
they've by and large turned out wonderful, though that may be more despite
me than because of me. I suspect you'll do fine. Aye, that's the one;
thought I'd mentioned. M'rek kept laughing all through the song. I *think*
he was really and sincerely amused." A grimace crosses her face now, when
talk returns to cages. "I'd like t'be able t'say that all cages have an
escape route *somewhere*, only... methinks we both know better. Going with
M'rek does sound a good idea t'me, for what 'tis worth. Mayhaps we can
bring M'rek to the Lounge, too. 'Tis so? Have I kept you over-long?" The
greenrider glances towards the sky as she asks this.


"And some dreams you can't reach, no matter how hard you try. But just the
same, it's no reason to stop dreaming, or chasing after parts. And there is
no reason the dream can't be rewritten, t'accommodate life's changes. When
I first dreamed t'make a stable like Bitra's mine, there was no Lord in my
life or in my bed. There was no prospective heir. Just runners." Cailin
muses on the subject, rolling along with it, "But in those changes there is
both sun and rain. I knew them both before, and now again after. But the
journey is what it is." She smiles for that, "I'm not sure everyone plans
theirs." She nods, "I'm sure it was, genuine I mean." -- "Aye. Not all do.
But just t'forget for a time, that trapped feeling is enough, I think. And
M'rek is the Master of ways t'forget." Yet she shakes her head. "No. You've
not kept me. I've no one watching the candlemark that I know of."

"I don't know," Kassi repeats, in that soft tone again that's half to
herself. "You can waste the better part of your life chasing after an
impossible dream along a road that's rocky enough t'cut you. When d'you
stop? Can you be happy, truly happy, if'n you never get there--knowing that
you gave up? A'course, there are dreams and dreams, and it could be you
have t'give up on one form of the greater dream t'achieve *any* form--I
speak hypothetically, a'course. But you know what I mean, mayhaps. If'n you
could go back t'Bitra and be with your son and those you care for, but
wouldn't have the stable, would you still want it?" There's genuine
curiosity for this. She really wants to know. "Is that still the biggest
part of the dream? I imagine there's always rain even if'n you reach your
end. 'Tis only that with *enough* sun, rain becomes far easier t'be
enduring." She does manage a wry and real grin for that. Then, "I'truth, I
doubt it. All of mine were surprises--happy surprises, mostly. All of 'em
happy in the end if'n nay always *entirely* happy at the time. I half think
'twould be nice t'have one that wasn't. Someday. Aye; let's hear it for
forgetfulness," she says with a brief laugh. "'Tis its own form of escape.
Mayhaps that's what we can do at the Lounge, if'n we do all go--spend some
time laughing and forgetting, and feeling free? It sounds like you both
could use some temporary amnesia."

"But was it a waste, to see if that dream was actually obtainable? T'see if
you can withstand the cuts?" Cailin asks "Would I give up my runners for a
life with Vorlin and Cain?" She pauses there, gives the question serious
thought and it's do, then slowly smiles. That's her answer, a smile and a
slow nod. "I do know, however, there are limits on my current dream, that
work to keep it a dream. But aye, there are still runners in it. I wish to
see my dream realized, but I realize it's a dream and I can only snatch at
the whips of fog in the way. But biggest? I'm not sure. But I'm seeking
more sun than rain." She nods then, and smiles, "It'd be nice to have at
least one that I could say was a happy surprise, I think." Funny how easy
it is to have the same sentiment from opposite sides like that. "Nothing
wrong with escape. Reality comes knocking soon enough after. I'd enjoy that
though, the reprieve of amnesia."

Kassima suggests with a certain sardonicism, "Might depend on how much time
you've wasted and how many opportunities you might've passed up, never
knowing, in the meanwhile. Particularly if'n you aren't certain you *did*
withstand the cuts." Still, the answer to her query brings a smile to her
face to match Cailin's. "I meant more give up having your own stable than
runners entirely, but aye. It may be nay such a painful thing t'give up one
dream for another if'n the other dream is strong. That's something t'keep
in mind, really. It doesn't sound so very impossible that you might someday
have a life at Bitra, with Vorlin and Cain--with 'em in your life, at
least, aye?--and work with the runners. If'n things will just cooperate and
shake out right." Another smile follows: more sun than rain, indeed. "Hah.
We both want what the other's had, then? Only mayhaps 'tis the same want,
really. I'd nay mind if'n all m'children were surprises--but if'n one were
a surprise with someone 'twas actually *with*, and cared for, that'd be
different than the other kind. I'd enjoy it, too. And if'n reality comes
knocking *too* soon, mayhaps we can poke it in the eye, or convince M'rek
t'break its nose."

"It might. But how do you judge if it was something you needed to passed by
to get where you are. Or if it was something you really wished you'd
gotten?" Cailin ohs then, silently and smiles again. "It never needed to
belong to me. Running it. Being part of it. That's what has counted. And
Bitra was icing on the cake. A turn or to there, and he let me run them as
if they -were- mine. As for possible or impossible? That depends a lot on
what I'm willing to give up to have it. If I'm given the opportunity to be
there again. Maybe what would have been for the best is to turn my back on
it all as so many think I should. Stay at the Hall. Raise my son. And we
could be happy, I know that, but I don't want to walk away yet." she
chuckles, "So it seems. Not that I'm not glad to have planned the first,
but to be able to be surprised by one, well.. That'd be something too, eh?"
Soft smile shifts to wry grin, "Just so long as it doesn't break his nose
in the process."

"Whether that matters might depend on how happy you are where you are. It
might've been better nay t'pass it, and end up somewhere else." Kassima
shrugs, though, a helpless sort of gesture. "Or mayhaps you couldn't have
the good things you *do* have now if'n it hadn't been for all that
fruitless chasing a'fore. I'm the last person t'know--aye, I understand
that. *Mattering* counts. Being important in what you do. Among other
considerations." Another long pause occurs. "I don't think... I don't know.
Shells, I'm saying that a lot tonight. If'n you care for someone--or
someplace," which is added a little too much as an afterthought; she's
probably not thinking, at this point, that it's the place that's the issue,
"and you think that one might care for you too, or that the place might
welcome you back--I can't tell you t'give up that dream. I don't know that
I could tell you t'give it up if'n you think 'tis one-sided. Wisdom would
suggest you should, but wisdom is overrated." The greenrider's tone twists
into the droll there. There's humor behind it, though; a bit of gentle
self-mockery, or mockery of them both, perhaps. "It would. I hope you get
that, too, amongst all the other things you're hoping for. And if'n it
*does* break his nose, 'twill kick it in the groin t'avenge him. See if'n I
don't."

"Aye. That is always the question. Are you happy where you are? But that's
the thing. Say your not, or your not sure. So today your cursing that
choice sometime in the past for blocking your dream. Then tomorrow, or the
day after, you find what you were missing? Do you even remember that things
weren't as good, just a bit before?" Cailin sits back and then nods, "Aye.
Self worth is all tied up in such things. And that tied to happiness where
you are too." She listens, and if she's catching that delayed thought, she
doesn't say, only replies, "Maybe. Maybe it's hard to know what welcome
you'll have until your there again. But you want t'find out, even if it
might hurt." She smiles softly, "I wish we all could get what we want, but
that would be quite a mess, wouldn't it? I'll have to see what I get, and
work with it. And I'll bet you will, if it does."

Kassima allows herself a slight smile, though with her head ducked it might
not be visible. "Mmm. A'course actually achieving the dream would make
everything that led up to it worth it, assuming that the dream was really
all you'd dreamed of. But if'n you never do.... There are dreams," she
repeats, appropos of not much obvious, "and dreams." Then, "Well. True.
Easy t'get muddled about self-worth that way. Anyway... aye, I can
sympathize with that one--I still dream of returning t'Benden, someday.
Only now I suspect that I'd have t'give up too much t'be getting that
dream. I can't give it up, though. It still matters too much." She says
that all relatively easily; not a painful subject, just a slightly rueful,
slightly amusing one. "I don't think 'tis quite like your situation, but
still. Wouldn't it just? And there are certes people I *don't* want t'see
getting what they want, if'n I can be so frank." She blows out an amused
breath. "Life. What a mess. You do seem the sort who'll persevere in the
end, whatever cards fate deals you. And who might just be able t'gnaw a way
out of a cage, should it come to that."

"The problem with dreams always comes with the fact that they have to stand
up against reality. And it's a flip of the mark, which one will look better
at any given moment. The dream keeps us wanting more and trying for more,
but reality reminds us of the costs. It's like placing a bet. Some marks
your free to wager, but some you need t'pay the expenses." Cailin lifts a
brow, "Benden, eh? I've not been there yet, oddly enough as much closer it
is. I've been to Reaches, Ista, Igen and Telgar, but not Benden, nor Fort."
Well traveled for a herder that dislikes *between*, "There are some I
wouldn't want to see get there desires, no. As with some, for them to get
their wants it would interfere with others getting theirs." The last
though, that earns a smile, "I learned to survive the hard way. By doing.
Heartbreak taught me you can get past heartbreak. And sometimes there is
something better round the next bend. And even if not, it doesn't due to
fret over it, as that just places a cloud before the sun."

"And free t'lose all of them in the wagering," Kassi mutters, "which is
perfectly plausible, and probably happens only too often. Didn't I start
out arguing *for* dreams in this? But there are things specific dreams can
ruin. Which doesn't make it any easier t'let go of 'em, even knowing
they're nay much better than poison." She brightens considerably when the
topic shifts to Benden, and her confirmation is warm: "Aye; that's where
Lyss found me, the Sands of Benden. Beautiful Weyr. I've been away from it
far longer than I ever served it, but--some places are always home, y'know?
Whatever happens. Benden's worth a visit. Fort, too, likely, though I've
nay done so very much socializing there compared t'some of the others.
D'you like visiting Weyrs?" A wry nod for the point that follows this.
"Exactly so. And at the end of the day, I'd rather m'children and I, and
m'friends, and those I care for, get what *we* want, insofar as 'tis
possible. Some people do get past it; you're right. Sorry you had t'learn
that one the hard way. And sometimes... aye, sometimes there is something
waiting, even when you think you've run out of bends in your road. I don't
know, though. Logically, a'course you shouldn't fret over heartbreak and
loneliness if'n you can't do aught about 'em. But that's far easier t'say
than t'do."

"Seen it happen lots of times -- At Bitra." Cailin responds quietly. "Not
always marks getting wagered either. Sometimes it's hopes, dreams, futures
and far more." With a weary smile, she adds, "This topics are cyclic. They
never cease going round and round as you grasp at them." She shifts in her
seat again, "I'll have to visit them someday. But as for liking or not
liking? It was duty that took me to all four, at least once a piece. But I
don't mind them." She nods, then shrugs, "I was young. And foolish. A girl
still, with a girl's innocent belief that a boy a few turns older meant it
when he'd whisper promises and dreams. And now, looking back, I'm sure he
did. In the moment, but he forgot the problems of reality. Then he forgot
me." A second dip of the shoulder, water under the bridge, "There is
fretting. And there is learning from those things and going on. Sometimes
hard to do the latter, but..."

Kassima's smile has more wryness in it than actual humor. "I suspect it
happens everywhere. Just nay always, perhaps, with such frequency. There's
an excitement in so much being up in the air, up for grabs; there's
something terrifying about it, too. Hopes, dreams, and futures can cut so
much worse than marks, t'lose." Like that's news, and indeed she sounds
more like she's ruminating on something already known as a given. "Oh,
truth. Well, let me come out in the end, overall, in favor of dreams. We
need them. Some people just don't have much luck in what their heart wants;
and there's little enough that can ever be done about that. Duty that took
you t'High Reaches, nay family?" She's a bit surprised by this, but nods
regardless, before quieting to listen. "I don't think 'twere a fool t'think
an older lad might mean such a thing," she offers, rather gently. "Nor
necessarily naive--though, young, you might've been that too. Mayhaps naive
t'believe in *that* lad. But 'tis so hard t'know who speaks false and who
true, when they speak of dreams and promises... an older woman might've
believed, too. If'n he forgot you, then *he's* the fool and should have
been kicked across a river. Twice." A decisive nod: kicking is good.
"--Well, but t'play again the arguer... if'n you feel alone, and despair
that you'll always be alone, what's t'learn from that; how d'you go on from
there? Just accept it? That's what I never managed. I'd *say* I accepted it
as a given, but it never hurt a whit less."

[Editor's Note:  All through the second half of this scene, 
NC's router was acting up, and at this point it went down 
for a half-hour or so.  We gave up. ;)  It can be assumed 
that the characters chatted awhile longer and probably 
commissioned a pair of kilts for M'rek before going 
home. 0:) ]