-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Share the Wealth Date: August 18, 1997 Place: Benden Weyr's Infirmary Game: PernMUSH Copyright Info: The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kassi's Note: Upon coming home from High Reaches with a full roast wherry Kassi's faced with the decision of what to *do* with it. She decides, perhaps to the recipient's surprise, to take it to the Infirmary where Cav is confined and share the treat with him. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Log: You walk off towards the Outer Infirmary. The distinct squelching sound of wet boots being walked in is audible as Kassi tries--sans success--to make her way quietly into the room with a tray of odd objects. One smells rather like meat, if you got close enough to sniff at it and for some reason would be inclined to. The greenrider looks left, then right, rather warily. "Good," she finally sighs. "Nay Garant." Dulath opens the lids of one eye and peers at the greenrider. Kassima picks up the oddly wrapped whatever-the-heck-it-is and salutes Dulath with it. "Evening, Dulath. I don't suppose there's any chance of my visiting your rider without being chased out by a Healer, eh?" She's never been sure whether or not dragons can understand humans, but what the hey; she lives to experiment. Dulath snuffles at the rider and package, then warbles softly. Dragon> Dulath bespoke Lysseth with << Please let your rider know my rider would like company. But not to over tax him. >> Lysseth> Dulath senses that Lysseth warbles affirmatively, << I have passed on the message. She promises not to stay too long. >> Kassima grins after a brief moment of the blank-eyed look that all riders get whenever they're either speaking to their dragons and/or drunk out of their minds. "Thankee, Dulath. I'll make this quick, I promise you." You push the tapestry aside and walk into the inner infirmary. C'vadan is prepared for this visit. He is sitting up in his cot. "Hello, Kassima," he says warily. Kassima pushes aside the curtain with the hand not holding onto the tray containing mugs, plates, a large and sharp knife, and some mysterious wrapped thing. She ducks her head in, and smiles. "Heya, Cav. Dulath said 'twas all right for you to have company?" C'vadan nods, still wary. "I am fine, despite what the Healers say. I can't wait to get out and about to walk." He peers at what you are carrying. "How is your little one?" Kassima walks over to one of those chairs that are always placed conveniently around the room, settling the tray in her lap and picking up the knife. "Kaylira's fine--she's learned to crawl, now, and to stand if'n she's holding on to something--'twill nay be long until she can stand lone." She sets down the implement of death she was toying with. "I brought you something," she says abruptly, tapping the wrapped thingamajigger. "That is, if'n you're hungry." C'vadan doesn't concentrate too long on the knife... he knows there are too many witnesses. And besides, he still has to serve out his sentence with Kassima. "Mildly so. What is it?" he asks. Kassima starts unwrapping the whatsits, which is actually a rather large whatsits. After a span of tugging, she manages to free... a wherry. A roast wherry, of a nice shade of golden-brown that looks perfectly harmless. Or mostly harmless, anyway. "I went to a class with Ofira today," she explains, "on how to prepare and roast the perfect wherry. We got t'keep the things when we were done--and since I can't eat a whole wherry by m'self, nor can I leave it until the morrow lest the Swarm pick its bones, I thought I'd find some hapless sucke--I mean, dear friend to share it with." She grins, gesturing to the plates and the knife. C'vadan sniffs at it like a canine does a carcass found on the roadside after being hit by a wagon. "Maybe just a little." Kassima's grin broadens at that, and she nods, pleased. "Good! Let me just slice off a piece, here...." Which she does, without much trouble; if there's one thing she can do, it's cut up a wherry. It looks rather good, actually, not long out of the oven as it is. Perhaps it's a tribute to Kassi's skill in the culinary arts, cooking having been her prime duty at her Hold for Turns. Or maybe it just looks juicy because it's secretly laden with some sort of clear poison. Who can tell? Digging out a generous helping of stuffing, she offers the plate, a fork, and one of the cider mugs to the brownrider. "Will that suit, think you?" Benden Weyr> C'vadan chokes on his soda. Kassi! :) C'vadan takes the offering like it is the last meal of a condemned man. "Thank you," he says softly. Benden Weyr> Kassima grins. Sorry, Cav; I'm in a silly mood today. :) "Ach, don't mention it," Kassi says with a smile. "You're doing me the favor by helping me polish it off, eh?" She sets down the knife, not choosing to cut a slice for herself for some odd reason; instead, she digs around in her pocket until she comes up with a packet of herbs, the entirety of which she dumps into her cider mug. "Just tell me what you think? I confess, of all the things I used to cook back home, I'd never had the opportunity to roast a wherry." The greenrider's choice not to eat is not lost on Cav, even in his semi-addled state. He starts cutting up the meat into teeny tiny little pieces - all very slowly. "How do the wings' fly?" he asks, distracting her. Kassima jiggles her mug to mix liquid with herbs, picking it up to peer into the depths. "Well, methinks. The injuries have been fairly light overall, and the Holders have been given nay cause to complain of our performance. 'Tis generally business as usual." She again picks up the serrated knife, carving it through a layer of wherry skin... but it's impossible to determine whether she's cutting herself a slice or just stabbing the thing for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. Kassima takes a sip of her cider, wincing at the heat of it. "Cav," she notes mildly, setting the cup down, "if'n you pared that down anymore, 'twould be difficult to tell the slice from the crumbs. D'you really think I'm such a bad cook as all that?" C'vadan shifts the plate on his lap, looking at it just so. "I see. Ursa hasn'tr been in since... I awoke. How is she? Who replaced me?" C'vadan shakes his head, still cognizant of the fact you still hold a knife. "Healers say I need to take small bites," he fibs slightly. Kassima seems surprised by that question, eyes widening slightly. "Replaced you? None that I know of. She's still the two 'seconds to back her up in Alisanda and Maarie. She seems well, though rather busy... Emlyn," she chuckles, "could nay doubt tell you more, or one of your other wingmates. Do they, now?" Absently, the greenrider raises the knife to let the glowlight flash off its blade. Has it been mentioned that said blade is razor-sharp? "How curious. I thought that was only for patience with jaw injuries or some such...." She abruptly slashes the knife down, finishing the hewing of a piece of meat from the hapless carcass. Kassima spears the sizeable slab of meat, plunking it on her own plate, and digs out a similarly sizeable scoop of stuffing to go with it. "Look, if'n I eat some of it, will you be convinced 'tis nay harmful?" she asks dryly. In the silence, she's apparently been given time to ponder the small bite excuse, and isn't buying it. C'vadan sighs and realizes how silly he is being and starts to eat. "Interesting," he says as he chews. And chews. And chews. Now, the wherry isn't actually poisoned. And unlike J'cob's wherry, it doesn't have a salt shaker hidden somewhere in its interior either. Kassi uses her knife to thwack the Perfectly Normal Wherry-meat into bite-sized pieces, and quirks an eyebrow at the chewing brownrider. "Dead yet?" she asks with a half-grin. C'vadan nods and chews. Kassima blinks, a slice of wherry lifted to bite-level on the point of the knife. She forestalls from actually biting it, for obvious reasons. "You are dead?" she asks, confused by the affirmative nod. C'vadan's laugh turns into a cough as he nearly chokes on the wherry. "No, the beast is," he says as he recovers and stares off the approaching Healers. Kassima grins, comprehension illuminating her face and managing to drive most of the befuddlement away. "Well, a'course! Did you think I'd be serving it t'you *live*? Live, without a head, and all its feathers plucked? I should *hope* nay. Nay living creature should have t'go through what's got t'be done to prepare a wherry." Contented that she didn't somehow manage to poison the thing unwittingly, she takes a bite as well, and chews contentedly. Chew, chew, chew. If one didn't know better, one would think this wherry was made from gum. C'vadan eats a little more, then sets the plate aside, leaning back into his cot. "How is Asrai doing?" he asks, remembering just now that that traitor of a bluerider is pregant. Kassima washes down a bite of dead bird with her drugged cider, setting down the knife to eat more normally with a fork. "Well, methinks. She must be into her fifth or sixth month by now. Had you heard that she's expecting triplets?" C'vadan blinks. "Triplets? Why isn't she in here?" Kassima quirks up one eyebrow, pausing to swallow a bite before answering. "She's nay *that* close to delivery yet, and doesn't seem t'be having problems. Poor K'nan goes hither and yon to satisfy her every whim. 'Tis a good thing they're weyrmated, or I daresay 'twould drive him mad." C'vadan blinks again. "They are weyrmated?" He seems astounded. "I'd forgotten you wouldn't know about that," Kassi quips ruefully. "Aye, they are--they've moved into a bigger weyr, with an extra room and all. They make quite a nauseating couple, so methinks 'twill likely last for a decent span." C'vadan sighs at this, still lamenting his own situation. "I hope they are very happy," he says, mostly a genuine thought. Kassima leans back in her chair, toying with her fork. "I think they are... 'tis still odd to think of him being with any but Aph, yet they seem a fair pairing, and I doubt it can be denied that he adores her." She shrugs, smiling slightly. "I wish them well, though I must say that I'd lay a wager on their spawn being positively frightening knife-throwers someday." C'vadan watches Kassima as his eyes slowly close. You push the tapestry aside and enter the outer infirmary.