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A Chilly Confrontation


Date:  April 27, 1999
Place:  Telgar Weyr Hot Springs
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:  Interesting things are happening at Telgar this winter--
including a fascinating love dodecahedron (well, okay, so it's only a
quadrilateral) between Mart, Kena, Jannea, and Th'lon, that hapless 
bronzer who's proven that he is indeed as crazy as any Thunderbolt rider
by first becoming infatuated with Mart's weyrmate and then posing nude
for Mart's daughter.  When he, Mart, and Kena wind up talking in the 
Springs, a confrontation of sorts ensues... and Kassi is happy to
contribute her own two cents, though by the time all was said and done,
I have a feeling Th'lon didn't think she was being very helpful. ;)

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The Log:

Cymrith flies over the edges of rock and lands on the far end of the 
springs.

Kena hops down Cymrith's side to the ground, the dragon's sparkling eyes 
watching closely.

Kassima is apparently stealing a moment from the neverending hidework to 
rest, reclining against Lysseth's side in the water with her hair piled up 
on top of her head in an impossibly high towel turban. Lysseth's rumble of 
greeting to Cymrith stirs her, however. "Huh? Wha? Mrph?" is her 
intelligent greeting.

Kena smiles as she dismounts, and then salutes her groggy Wingleader. "I 
thought I might find you hiding in here," she says with intentional thick 
irony on the word 'hiding'.

Kassima gives a light groan, and favors her Wingrider with a distinctly 
droll look. "Don't tell me you're going to tell the hidework where I am so 
it can pounce on me in the bath. Methinks 'twill never get the ink stains 
from m'hands as 'tis, thankee--and stop that bloody saluting!"

Kena rolls her hand over to show Kassima her own permanently inkstained 
hands. "Now, would I do that?" she asks, grinning like the feline who 
caught the vtol.

Kassima lifts her own hands from the water, staring ruefully at the 
prunized and yet still faintly blackened fingertips. "Aye," she says, 
without so much as a hint of doubt. "Aye, you would. Makes me wonder why 
on Pern I bought a Turnover gift for you, y'know."

Kena replies, "Because you have such a surplus of marks?"

"There's nay such thing as having too many marks t'be spending on 
yourself, if'n you're so minded--or so I'm told," Kassi retorts, pushing 
away from Lysseth to swim towards the border of the pool, where a sack so 
huge, so stuffed that it looks like the world's largest slug is lying. 
"Still, you may have a point. I can't have people thinking I'm rich, or 
they wouldn't bet with me. Mmph. Now, where *did* that thing go...?" she 
mutters, rummaging through the mighty slug-sack.

Kena just shakes her head. "Your generousity is beyond reproach, Kassima 
dear."

Kassima's voice is a bit muffled by sack-material; she's crawled halfway 
into the thing to try and find whatever she's after. "Naught about me is 
beyond reproach, old friend, as I've long since learned... ah-hah! C'mere, 
you." Yes, she's talking to a package--one of her characteristically 
tackily-wrapped packages, adorned with black, blue, and white-dyed cloth, 
with green ribbon galore. "Here we are," she announces triumphantly. 
"Sorry about the belatedness, but life's been... interesting... lately. 
Aye, interesting's a safe word."

Kena says "Oh, so you have a bronzerider who is infatuated with you, as 
well as posing nude for your daughter, all the while your weyrmate is 
wanting to kill him every chance he gets?" She shakes the package. "What 
is it?"

Kassima snorts at that, simply snorts. "Last bronzer who'll ever be 
infatuated with me was ages agone, Kena, for which I'm grateful. And if'n 
anyone posed nude for Kaylira, she'd prolly just laugh at him, and Khari 
would ask endless questions about lechery until he was driven off. As to 
the third, another reason t'be glad I'm single, neh? And for the fourth, 
open and see. But be careful with that shaking." Must be something 
fragile.

Kassima adds, after a moment of thought, "I hope Mart realizes that I'll 
kick him all the way back to High Reaches if'n he kills that 
aforementioned bronzer. Killing off her riders is a Wingleader's 
prerogative!"

Kena grins and then carefully opens the package.


---

Thin, translucent glass, just sturdy enough to withstand the rigors of 
normal usage without losing its aspect of delicacy, comprises the form of 
this most unusual glowbasket: a hollow globe, crowned at its apex by a 
hanging-hook, and outfitted with a small section that can slide to one 
side to allow its interior to be refilled with fresh glows. The most 
notable trait of this object is not its material, however, but its 
appearance. The glass from which it is made has been stained in tints of 
pale blues and greens in a tranquil scenario; over a field of lush, ripe 
greenery, through a sky of sapphire unmarred by any cloud, a green dragon 
spreads her wings to catch the air currents that nature provides. Darting 
along beside her and in her wake are the tiny, spritely forms of fire-
lizards of all colors, adding a sense of playfulness to the otherwise 
regal scene. When unshielded, the globe will provide cool, aqua-tinted 
light, easy on eyes that need a rest from the turmoils of the day.

---


Kena's expression is one of simple awe. "I am not deserving of something 
so beautiful, Kassima," she murmurs.

Kassima laughs quietly, shaking her head and nearly dislodging her turban 
in the process. "Nonsense, Kena, utter nonsense. With all those children, 
it makes sense that you'd be needing something t'help you relax, and one 
of m'Weaver cousins insists that blue's a relaxing color."

Kena nods and carefully puts the globe back in the container (assuming 
there was one.) "Maybe it will help Mart. He could use some relaxing." Or 
deep sedation.

"Or deep sedation?" Kassi inquires wryly, with her usual talent for mind-
reading. "Afraid I didn't get him drugs as a gift, but mayhaps I 
should've. I've presents for the children, too, a'course. Just m'way of 
making sure people have a reason t'be letting me live even as evil as I 
am." A wink, and then she more seriously inquires, "He's taking 
Th'lon's infatuation poorly, then? Nay that I couldn't have guessed as 
much."

Kena sighs as she takes a seat on a large well worn rock. "He seemed to 
get over that okay. But when he found Jannea's drawing of Th'lon... he 
could have chewed Thread."

"Ow," comments Kassi. "What I can't figure is why she'd *want* t'be 
drawing nude bronzers. Or why anyone would ever want to *pose* nude, 
especially here. Brrr. Wouldn't he be cold? Still, naught *wrong* with it 
per se, beyond the utter illogicalness of such a thing. I'm warranting 
Mart doesn't see it that way."

Kena shrugs slightly. "I agree with you there. The coldness doesn't 
present a male figure in the most positive manner." A slight giggle. "But 
Jannea just likes to draw. But I don't know what she was thinking.

Kassima snorts again, this time with laughter. "'Twill be taking your 
word. I've nay much experience t'be drawing on t'say--only what I've heard 
from other riders. Mayhaps... now here's a thought: mayhaps she did it for 
the express purpose of shocking Mart? Revenge for being so over-protective 
or the like?" Kassi's one who can sympathize with a revenge-against-Mart 
motive.

"I've thought of that, actually," Kena admits. "I guess we should have 
packed her off to a Craft to avoid Mart's overprotective nature."

Kassima, stifling a yawn, agrees--sort of. "If'n she wanted t'go, might've 
been an idea... she's old enough to decide her own life-path, I should 
think. I wonder whether Mart recalls that at her age, he'd already stolen 
runners, gone most of the way across the continent on their backs, been 
Searched, methinks was a rider, mayhaps even had a weyrmate. Don't recall 
how old he was when he graduated. Your weyrmate is a very strange and 
illogical man."

Kena nods in total agreement to that last statement. "I'm glad I'm not the 
only one who thinks so."

Kassima assures Kena with an impish glint in her eye, "Methinks the entire 
*Weyr* thinks so. Especially when he's proddy, but far from limited to 
that."

Kena tries not to think about how insane M'rgan gets when his firelizards 
all glow at the same time. Unlike her, who is quite sane when she's 
proddy. "Indeed."

"Naked pictures and infatuations aside, how've things been with you lot?" 
Kassi wants to know.

Kena holds Kassima's gift in her hand, as if weighing it. "Very well, 
really. Yourself? And the children?"

"Myself, I'm as busy as a wherry dancing on a hot stove while trying to 
put out his flaming tail feathers and figure out the remainder of forty-
seven thousand, nine-hundred and two divided by sixteen-thousand and four 
at the same time," Kassi answers, straightening the towel tower on her 
head. "The children are rather better. Kay and Kris just had their 
Turnday nay long agone--Kay's eight, and Kris is one a'course. So Kay's 
finally getting her knife-fighting lessons, and is quite happy about 
*that*."

Kena has never understood Kassima's penchant for knives, or why she would 
pass that trait on to her children. "Well, different strokes for different 
folks," she says wryly.

Kassima quirks a grin at Kena. "Hey, it makes her happy. I doubt *Khari* 
will want to learn, but you never know. She's more interested in conning 
bronzeriders out of their underwear."

Kena arches a slender brow. "I... how... Uh... interesting."

Kassima is having a terrible time trying to keep a straight face at this 
point. "As gifts for Lirra," she explains. "Lirra let her help paint some 
men's underwear when she was proddy a long time ago, and Khari's been 
trying to get more for her ever since." Kassi's daughter: Pern's answer to 
the underpants gnomes.

[Editor's Note:  Kena had to go, so there's a RL time break between this 
scene and its resumption; however, I assume that any IC time break was
minimal.]

Algizth flies over the edges of rock and lands on the far end of the 
springs.

Th'lon swings down from Algizth's neck, giving the bronze an affectionate 
thump as his feet hit the ground.

Kena is quietly chatting with Kassima.

Th'lon slides down from Algizth's neck, unbuckling and pulling off the 
bronzes straps as soon as his feet his the floor. Tossing it to one side, 
he pulls a scrub brush out of his pack as the bronze slides off into the 
water. Seeing a few riders lounging to one side, he peers over in their 
direction, "Evening Wingleader, Kena." he says quietly, slipping in the 
pool.

Kassima is quietly chatting back from where she leans back against her 
dragon, her hair caught up in a giant towel turban. "Kassi," she corrects 
Th'lon automatically, glancing up. "None of that title crap. How go 
things?"

Kena looks around. Whenever she sees Th'lon, M'rgan is soon to follow. 
However, there is no sight of her werymate. "Good evening, Th'lon dear. 
You forgot to salute the Wingleader."

Th'lon stretches his arms and yawns, "Just getting in from sweeps over 
Lemos." he replies, "Everything looked clear." A chuckle is directed 
towards Kena, "Yeah, and lose my hand I saluted with too."

"Do it and die," Kassi agrees, though amiably enough. "Good, good. 
Temperatures are still at freezing, I trust?"

Th'lon nods afirmitively to Kassima, unconciously shivering, "Unfortunatly 
for someone out flying in it, it is."

Kassima waggles a finger at her Wingmate. "Nay so unfortunate; would you 
rather it warmed up, and Thread suddenly began falling while 'twere out 
there alone? I should imagine nay. Would you do me a favor and haul that 
bag over closer, by the by?" She points a finger towards the long, 
extremely overstuffed sack that looks something like a dried-up giant 
slug. "Be careful nay t'be throwing your back out; 'tis heavy."

M'rgan walks in from outside the room.

Kena takes this moment of distraction to put the object she's been 
cradling in her arms in a pouch on Cymrith's straps.

M'rgan sighs with relief as he wanders into the warm, steamy area, his 
shivering quickly ceasing. The man's hair is damp and plastered to his 
face and his nose is bright red and now and then he sniffles quite 
noisily.

Th'lon looks over at the bag, quirking his brow curiously, "Uh, sure." He 
steps over to the bag, just in time to have his back turned towards 
M'rgan. Grabbing one end of it, he tests the weight before lifting it up, 
"Ugh! This thing weighs as much as a dragon!" he stammers, staggering 
around slightly as he tries to balance the bag.

Kena also has her back to M'rgan as she secures the globe. "You'll never 
know what to expect when Kassima is in one of her creative gift giving 
moods," she says fondly.

"I'd be surprised if'n it doesn't weigh more," Kassima replies, sounding 
wry. "That's close enough; thankee, Th'lon. Now, kindly don't flee for a 
moment whilst I fish out your Turnover gift." She swims towards where the 
bag is, but spares a moment to glance over her shoulder in the direction 
of those annoying snerk noises. "Hey, brownie!" she greets brightly. 
"Good; this means I can get your gift out of the way, too. Must be m'lucky 
day, I'm telling you."

Th'lon steps away from the bag and arches his back, "Turnover gift?" At 
Kassima's greeting he turns his head towards the entrance to the springs 
and sighs as he see's who is standing there. Fortunatly he's nowhere near 
Kena this time so he greets M'rgan, "Evening Wingleader." he says, in a 
somewhat dry tone.

M'rgan stops wiping at his nose with the back of his hand just long enough 
to peer through the steam, eventually spotting Kassima. "It's not Turnover 
again?" he whines, resuming his nose wiping. The man's gentle blue eyes 
lazily look around the area, turning brighter when he sees Kena and then 
dimmer, much dimmer, when Th'lon is noticed. The brownrider's hand drops 
to his side where it twitches. It's not quite a clench. "Th'lon," he grits 
out.

Kena turns around and gives M'rgan a smile. "Leave without your scarf 
again, Mart dear?" she asks, moving to M'rgan (and coincidentally standing 
between her weyrmate and Th'lon.)

"A'course Turnover gift, and 'tis belated, Mart," Kassi answers without 
batting an eye, while working to fish the appropriate parcels out of the 
bag. "What're you whining about? 'Tisn't as if'n I got you another 
Emasculator last Turn, y'know." She seems utterly oblivious to any tension 
in the room.

Th'lon looks between Kassima and M'rgan several times before deciding to 
slip into the water next to his wingleader, "An emasculator? What would a 
guy need with...well never mind. That doesn't really sound strange coming 
from you." he says, a light tone coming back to his voice as he keeps his 
attention on the large bag at the edge of the pool.

Jaw tightening, M'rgan stares past Kena at Th'lon as he answers his 
weyrmate's question. This time he sniffles very loudly rather than 
wiping at his nose. He needs his hands free right now. "Brought my scarf. 
But it was raining. That cold, icy rain." His eyes brighten as Kassima 
mentions the emasculator and his brow creases with thought. Where did he 
put that thing anyway? "I know, Kassima. It's just that your gifts are too 
nice."

Kena nods in agreement with her weyrmate. "Amazing in their creativity and 
insight, too," she says.

"He didn't, but I figured he'd appreciate receiving it himself marginally 
more than having me give it to Kena," Kassi replies absently, pushing away 
from the sack with two gifts in hand. One smallish, one largish, both 
wrapped in standard tacky style. "This one's yours," she says, offering 
the smaller one to Th'lon. It's wrapped in black, bronze, and white-
painted cloth and tied with a green ribbon; the other one, which she 
proffers to Mart, is similar, save the cloth is black, white, blue, and 
brown instead. "And that one's yours. Happy belated Turnday, evil 
people."

After acknowledging the gift by nodding once to Kassima, M'rgan holds the 
package unopened between his hands, his fingers drumming on the cloth. His 
interest lies more in Th'lon's direction at this moment. Unfortunately the 
brownrider can't maintain this glare for long, not in the presence of 
others at least, and after about half a minute he turns to Kena, "What'd 
she give you?"

Th'lon smiles and takes the package from Kassima, "Thanks Kassi. I'm going 
to have to start bumping into you here in the springs more often. You've 
always got a surprise when I do." he says, leaning back against the edge 
of the pool to unwrap his gift.


---

A simple belt-buckle, this, or so it appears; a polished rectangle of 
silver, just large enough to fit most reasonably-sized belts, and bereft 
of all ornamentation--save, of course, for the oval-sized piece of 
eggshell trapped behind crystal in its center. The pristine white color of 
that shard, marred only by a thin line of black alongside one edge, 
identifies it readily as a piece of Algizth's own egg. Set in the tip of 
the buckle's prong is a small, medium-hued topaz, its golden-brown shade 
vaguely reminiscent of that of a bronze dragon's hide.

---


Kena answers, "A beautiful glow globe." Maybe talking about gifts will 
distract M'rgan enough. "I can't wait to see what she got you, dear."

"Be glad I'm nay L'cher," Kassi advises, rather impishly. "He'd probably 
take that t'mean something entirely different than what you intended." 
Adjusting the giant towel-turban that holds her hair up yet again, she 
watches the unwrapping with interest.

Kena giggles at Kassima, then turns her attention back on her all too 
quiet weyrmate.

Th'lon lays the wrapping aside, his eyes sparkling with delight as he 
pulls the buckle out, "Wow Kassi! Thanks! It's beautiful." he turns the 
buckle upright so the shell is resting on top and smiles broadly at his 
wingleader, "That's a piece of Alg's shell isn't it?"

The 'dear' is M'rgan's hint that Kena wants something from him and he'd 
better deliver. With a quiet mumble under his breath where he wishes for 
an emasculator or a knife or a crossbow or at least a good, stout rope, 
the brownrider reluctantly begins to unwrap the package.


---

The first item within the box is a tunic of deep, rich blue sisal, its 
sleeves loose-cut and caught at the wrist with ties of sleek cord. 
Clearly, it is meant to be worn under the next piece of apparel: a vest, 
it would seem, of butter-soft leather that is dyed a shade of ebony nearly 
as black as *between*. Embroidery puts in an appearance along its edges in 
the form of ropes of entwining silver and blue, one glittering, one dark; 
the former wars with the clasps that hold the vest closed for dominance, 
for those too are silver, and shaped as the front profile of a dragon 
whose wings are extended in flight. Yet another layer of raiment consists 
of well-cut linen slacks--also black--and a belt of matching hue to ensure 
that they stay in place, with the last level being a pair of calf-height 
sable leather boots whose cuffs are stylishly turned. As a final touch to 
the outfit, you may note that the silver, diamond-shaped buckle of the 
belt has been embossed with the symbol of Skyfire Wing.

---


Kassima grins at the bronzerider, looking pleased by his reaction. "Is 
indeed; I collect eggshells, and 'twas certain t'get enough pieces this 
time t'manage a bit of jewelry. Shell-jewelry's good luck, y'know." Trust 
Kassima to bring luck into this. Of course, if Mart asked her, she could 
probably provide any of the aforementioned weapons of destruction, so 
let's hope it doesn't occur to him to ask.

Th'lon examines the gift for another few moments, grinning at Kassima's 
comment, "Well I could certainly use some good luck." he says 
melodramatically as he turns to watch M'rgan unwrap his present.

M'rgan does a bit of juggling to open the package without spilling the 
contents all over the floor and he crouches down slightly, giving himself 
a bit of a lap to rest things on. The first thing he pulls out is a blue 
tunic. A very nice blue tunic actually but M'rgan dismisses it as 
unimportant and digs further. A vest and a pair of pants follow the tunic 
and are just as quickly dismissed. But the belt...the strong leather belt 
with a buckle that could do some damage...the belt isn't dismissed and the 
brownrider studies it with fascination. Grim fascination.

Kassima watches this display with some curiousity, one eyebrow creeping 
higher and higher towards her hairline. "Mayhaps I should've just gotten 
him a whip," she mutters.

M'rgan's eyes fly up as Kassima mentions the whip and he pauses in 
snapping the belt between his hands. "A whip? You have one?" His eyes roam 
Kassima's form but the towels don't reveal much.

"Aye," Kassi answers, blinking. "A'course I do. But nay *with* me. Could 
have a 'lizard fetch it, I imagine--what're you needing a whip for?"

Th'lon watches M'rgan go through the assorted clothing one item at a time, 
quirking a brow at his facination with the belt. Kassima's comment draw's 
a grimmace from him, and M'rgan's a flat out scowl, "Nice looking tunic, 
sir." he says in a monotone to the brownrider.

Kena smiles appreciatively at the gift, then pokes M'rgan in the shoulder. 
She mutters to M'rgan, "... stop... right... I... you... angry at... but 
this kind... not..."  Her smile returns slowly. "Kassi dear, you have done 
it again."

"Done what?" Yes, Kassi's definitely confused.

Since he's not exactly in a steady-legged posture, M'rgan rocks as his 
shoulder is poked and his question to Kassima that started off with "Could 
you...?" is stilled. "I wouldn't really use it on him," he grumbles under 
his breath to his weyrmate as he lays the belt back on the clothes. But 
though he's put it down, his fingers still cling to the leather as if 
reluctant to leave it. "He's a rider after all."

Kena supplies, "Done a wonderful job in choosing your turnover gifts." She 
turns her gaze back on her weyrmate. "I know. But even thinking about it 
is... well... upsetting."

Kassima asks brightly, "Does that make a difference? I'd use a whip on 
you, after all." And, y'know, it's hard to tell whether or not she's 
kidding. "Oh! Well, thankee, Kena. Can't always pick just the right thing, 
I know, but I try... sometimes with better successes than others." She 
shrugs philosophically. "'Tis the way of the game."

Th'lon sighs loudly and throws his hands up in the air, apparently not 
wanting to drag this out any longer, especially in front of his 
Wingleader, "Look -sir-. I just came in here to wash Algizth after flying 
sweeps all day. I was not following Kena and for that matter, I haven't 
seen her in close to a sevenday." He pauses to take a breath, "I know you 
two are happily weyrmated and while I can't really help the way I feel, I 
promise I won't..try anything untoward anymore."

Kena offers Th'lon a sympathetic smile. The poor unsuspecting child. But 
this tension has to be deflated somehow. And usually the best way to 
deflate M'rgan is to let him have his say for a few minutes. He eventually 
realizes how silly he looks that way. "I don't think that's really the 
problem, Th'lon."

M'rgan rolls the package and clothes up, to protect the gifts from the 
elements. Though a bit of the belt can still be seen. "Yes, Kassi," he 
remarks as Kena's words prompt him. "Thank you. They are very nice." As he 
leans over towards Kena, the man tucks the package under his arm and 
fingers his wingleader's knot with his free hand. "Do you mean if I got 
rid of this I could..." A loud snort resounds outwards from the brownrider 
as he hears Th'lon's words. "Kena can take care of herself. But Jannea..." 
Yes, it's shoot daggers with his eyes time for Mart again.

Kena steps aside, giving M'rgan free view of Th'lon. And Algizth.

Th'lon quirks a brow at Kena, clearly surprised by this information, 
"Huh?" As M'rgan gets to his feet, he scurries backwards through the 
water, almost looking buoyant as he skims to the back wall eyeing the belt 
in the man's hand carefully, "Jannea? What about her?" his eyes dart left 
and right as he thinks back, trying to remember the last time he saw the 
girl.

Algizth raises himself out of the water, rumbling lowly and looking 
between his rider and the others gathered around him. His eyes whirl 
faster as Th'lon's nervousness spreads into his own thoughts.

"Can also take care of herself," Kassi speaks up, eyeing the brownrider. 
"She's either as old or nearly as old as either of us were when we became 
riders; I should imagine she can cross the Bowl without holding anyone's 
hand by now."

M'rgan oh so lightly reaches out to tap his weyrmate's arm, offering her 
the package. He's going to need his hands free for this. "We know what 
you've been doing. What you and she have been doing. I saw the drawing. 
What Jannea is is young and innocent and she's going to stay that way. 
Understand?" The man's tone is firm and husky but he doesn't shout. In the 
presence of others, especially a dragon, he rarely shouts. "Kassi, I'll 
speak for Jannea. I'm her father."

Kena takes the package. "Kassima's right, you know."

Th'lon turns to give Kassima a brief look of gratitude, for what he 
doesn't know yet. As M'rgan hands off his bundle he starts to dance left 
and right in the water, panic starting to set in, "Been doing? We 
haven't..." As the drawing is mentioned, his eyes go a bit wide, "You saw 
the drawing?"

Kassima shakes her head slowly at the brownrider. "Her foster-father you 
may be, and thus have some authority," she agrees, the rhyme purely 
unintentional, honest. "But Jannea is her *own* person. Nay anyone owns 
her. If'n she wanted, she could just up and leave you and join a Craft at 
any time; she's of age for that. If'n you don't want t'be losing her 
entirely, may I suggest lightening up so she doesn't do weird, illogical 
things like draw naked men t'protest being bound in cotton?"

Free of the burden of the package, M'rgan jerks his arms, tendons snapping 
at the forceful gesture. Yep, all systems are go. His arms dangle at his 
sides for a heartbeat when suddenly, with a smooth movement, he tucks his 
hands into his trouser pockets. He takes a long, steadying breath at 
Kena's words, trying to calm himself as once again she publicly disagrees 
with him. Women. How dare they have minds of their own. "I don't care 
who's right. I don't care if she's her own person. Th'lon's going to leave 
her alone. Right, Th'lon?"

Kena asks the usual question after an implied threat: "Or what?"

Kassima remarks, folding her arms, "Are you certain you'd rather he did, 
Mart? After all, he's a decent young man and a good rider." Of course he 
is; he's one of hers. Duh. "Wouldn't you rather Jannea spent time in his 
company than, say, L'cher's? Or R'val's? Forbidding something to a 
youngling is like daring them t'go and take it in the manner most likely 
t'be giving you a coronary."

Th'lon gasps as Kassima mentions the contents of the drawing, "You saw 
it?!" he stammers. Panic has definatly set in as his eyes dart left and 
right, searching for a fast way out of the water in relative safety. 
Seeing no escape, he puffs his chest out and turns to face M'rgan fully, 
"Look. I didn't ask her if she'd draw that picture, we just kinda..thought 
it up. She was practicing. And anyway, I probably wouldn't have said no if 
she had flat out asked me." he swallows noisily and takes a deep breath, 
"I'm sure I'll run into her again and I'm /not/ going to avoid her like 
some kind of scared wherry because of you."

"Nay," Kassi drawls, reassuringly(?). "Pictures of naked men aren't 
m'thing. Especially nay drawn at *Telgar*, for Faranth's sake; 'tis *cold* 
here! Heard about it secondhand."

Kassima's comment and Kena's reproval both draw grateful looks from 
Th'lon. Though he keeps his attention on the most immediate threat, 
M'rgan. Little ripples spread out from his midsection as he stands in the 
water. Trembling? Nahh, not a big rider like him.

M'rgan's eyes dart to the side to /peer/ at his weyrmate. Yep, it's going 
to be another private 'discussion' between them after this. The man 
ponders the question for a few seconds, mentally dismissing most of the 
answers that come to mind since things like 'pound him into a pulp' aren't 
going to help his argument. "If he doesn't then I'll know the sort of 
person that he is. The sort of person that is worse than L'cher. At least 
the man's obvious and easily avoided." The brownrider's lip curls into a 
slight sneer and he echoes the young man's puffing up gesture. Of course 
since he's clothed and Th'lon is not it's likely he looks far more puffed 
up. "Are you going to weyrmate to her?"

Th'lon blinks at the question, clearly not expecting that, "Weyrmate?!" he 
echo's. "I..I uh..We never talked about that. It was just a drawing!" He 
turns quickly to Kassima, "I don't have to get weyrmated because of a 
drawing do I?" he asks in an almost pleading tone to the greenrider.

Kassima groans and smacks a hand over her eyes. "Oh, here we go again with 
the weyrmating stuff." Apparently, she's been subjected to Mart's 
matchmaking tendencies before. "Nay, you don't have t'weyrmate because of 
a drawing. You wouldn't *have* t'weyrmate for any reason at all, beyond 
love and masochism. Always a free choice, and an institution better 
avoided." So speaketh Telgar's own premier celibacy advocate.

M'rgan rolls his eyes and pulls his hand out of his pocket for a second, 
directing a limp 'presentation' wave in Th'lon's direction. "This is your 
/decent/ young man, ladies? He'll use a woman all he wants but he doesn't 
want to pay the price for that."

Kena hands M'rgan back his gift. "Don't be completely wherryheaded, 
M'rgan. He doesn't have to stop seeing Jannea and he certainly doesn't 
have to weyrmate with her. Or do you think so little of the idea of 
weyrmating?" Her emerald eyes flash dangerously.

"Look M'rgan," Th'lon starts in again, trying to work his defiant tone 
back up, "I like Jannea. She's a good friend, but for now that's all. 
Nothing has happened like it did between.." he trails off, his eyes 
guiltily drifting towards Kena. As she begins to say something he decides 
to hold his tounge for the moment till something better to say comes to 
mind.

"Mart," Kassi says in a warning tone, "watch it. A woman is nay something 
that can be *bought*. We're nay bloody *bovines*. If'n they want t'be 
weyrmating, that's their decision too. But trying t'push 'em into 
weyrmating isn't a very kind thing t'be doing t'your daughter, and neither 
is trying t'keep her from seeing him since that might have just the same 
effect."

M'rgan tucks the package back under his arm and continues his argument. 
Perhaps unwisely he chooses to ignore the warning in his weyrmate's eyes. 
"I think so little of a man not being responsible for his actions. I want 
something better for Jannea than what you had." Another porcine snort 
comes from the brownrider as he turns back to Th'lon, having seen the look 
the bronzerider directed to Kena. "I don't give a shard about that flight, 
Th'lon. That was dragon stuff. /This/ is not...Shells. I don't care if he 
weyrmates to her. I don't want him to weyrmate to her. He's not worthy of 
her. What I want is for him to realize that he can't just use her and 
discard her. I want him to be a man."

Kena crosses her arms before her. Tightly. "Th'lon," she says, not looking 
at the young bronzerider, "did you do anything but pose for Jannea?"

Kassima's jaw tightens. Just a touch. Nothing that's easy to see. "I... 
can understand your position," she says at last, heavily. "I used t'think 
'twould be better t'have some affection than be alone; I've changed 
m'mind. But you can't decide that for someone else, whether the risk's 
worth the cost. If'n you love Jannea, let her make her own life and do 
what she will." She loses some of her seriousness as she switches topics a 
bit. "Besides, drawing naked pictures of people doesn't necessarily mean 
you're going t'sleep with them. Admittedly, I can't understand why anyone 
would ever do such a thing at *all*, but she must've had some reason. 
You'd think she'd have waited until summer, though, at least."

Th'lon's brow furrows and his eyes narrow, "A man? What do you think I 
am?" Apparently, this is something that finally draws some fire from him. 
At Kena's question he turns to the greenrider and shakes his head, "No! I 
met her in the cavern one day and we were talking about her drawing. She 
wanted to practice on a person and.." he shrugs, the rest of the story 
being obvious. "But I am worthy." he states flatly, turning his 
attention back to M'rgan, "I admit I have liked spending time with her, 
and though it hasn't really crossed my mind I wouldn't mind seeing her at 
all. But that's for her to decide." he says, echoing Kena and Kassi's 
sentiments.

At the rate M'rgan is squeezing that package, as he tenses from the 
pressure of a 3-way argument, those clothes are going to have permanent 
wrinkles in them. If they survive at all. "A man is responsible. A man is 
respectful. A man cares about his mate. A man doesn't leave." Naturally 
M'rgan lists all the attributes that he has. Or thinks he has. "A man 
doesn't parade about in front of an innocent girl. Worthy? What makes you 
worthy?" The man shakes his head at Kassima but since the steam has kept 
his hair damp it doesn't even move. "I'm not controlling Jannea's life. 
I'm asking Th'lon what he's doing with his. And hers."

"*Now* you are," the greenriding Wingleader-type agrees. "Weren't a'fore. 
And Mart, what if Jannea doesn't want t'be weyrmating *him*? What if she 
just wants a casual fling or whatever? Forgive m'ignorance as to the 
proper terminology."

"No daughter of mine wants a casual fling," M'rgan practically spits out, 
the very thought abhorrent to his holdbred sensibilities.

Kassima asks, simply, "How d'you *know*? Have you asked her? And would you 
stop considering her your daughter if'n she did?"

Th'lon looks between Kassima and Kena, clearly confused by the questioning 
and they seem to have some empathy for his position, "I'm doing my duty. 
Being the best rider I can be for my wing." he says in response to his 
life. "And there was no fling. I doubt she's even considered it. She's the 
shyest person I've ever met in fact." he adds, clearly hoping that fact 
might help.

Kena looks at her weyrmate. "Do you think so little of Jannea to think she 
would disappoint you like this, M'rgan?" she asks softly. "Th'lon has told 
you nothing happened. So has Jannea. I believe them both. Jays, Mart, she 
hasn't seen anything on Th'lon the whole Weyr hasn't."

Kassima comments helpfully, "Or that she's nay seen on dozens of other men 
when they go to the Springs or Lake or wherever 'tis she bathes." Yeah, 
that's real helpful, Kassi.

M'rgan shakes his head more vigorously this time, so vigorously that his 
damp hair manages to smack against his forehead. "I'm not going there, 
Kassi. That's not what we're talking about and I don't want to talk about 
it...There's more to being a man than being a rider. There's more to being 
*worthy* than being a rider. Being a rider means nothing. Nothing. There's 
people I wouldn't speak to if I didn't have to in the wings and there's 
people who are worthy in the stables." The man closes his eyes briefly, a 
long, tired sigh whistling out of his nose. Accompanied a second later by 
an even longer sniffle. "All I want is...When did she say that?" The last 
is asked of Kena.

Kena answers, "When we first found out, Mart dear." She takes a deep 
breath. "I'm not sure you heard her...." She leaves out the 'because you 
were yelling so much'.

Th'lon's jaw drops at Kena's comment and he tugs his tunic around him a 
bit tighter, "Hey now," He quirks a brow towards Kassima, clearing his 
throat, "Well now,".

Kassima considers this for a moment. "All right, so what are we talking 
about? Jannea drew a picture of a naked man--and in *winter*, for 
Faranth's sake. How much could there have been t'see in *winter*? But I 
digress." No, she just can't get over that point. "She asked Th'lon for a 
really, really, really odd and even odder-timed favor, which he fulfilled. 
For that, you want t'beat him to a bloody pulp? I don't get it."

Th'lon drops his eyes, only for a second to look himself over. Shaking 
those those thoughts away, he changes back to talking about Jannea, "Rider 
or not, I am respectable. And I wouldn't ever do anything that Jannea 
doesn't want."

A lot of the wind leaves M'rgan's sails, a lot of the fire leaves his 
furnace, a lot of the bluster leaves the man as he listens to Kena. "Oh. 
But I thought...She and him...But if they didn't..." The brownrider's eyes 
flick from person to person as his cheeks pinken a touch with 
embarassment. Yet, he still can't quite give it up. He can't lose face 
now. "Well, I don't want anymore of those drawings done. That is not 
respectable."

Kena can't help but smile. And then she hugs her weyrmate. "Well, we'll 
discuss that later. But I have to agree. Posing nude in the winter just 
seems... unflattering. Even if she exaggerates the proportions."

"Well, she'd have to, wouldn't she?" Kassi asks, shaking her head in 
bewilderment. "I mean, *winter*? Nay that I make a hobby of drawing naked 
men m'self, so I suppose I wouldn't know, but given what I've heard... 
well, it just seems very odd t'me."

Th'lon frowns, not at all liking the turn of the discussion, "My weyr is 
warmer than outside! And it, nevermind." he says dejectedly. Oh how 
quickly the tides turn.

Much of M'rgan's tension drains from him as he is hugged by Kena. Even 
after 11 turns of weyrmating he still finds relief in her embrace. The man 
tentatively reaches out to curl his arm around the woman's waist. "I guess 
it's settled then," he remarks as he looks at the two greenriders. In his 
mind Th'lon's been outvoted.

Kassima shakes her head again, then readjusts her turban, also again. "Nay 
weyr around here is warm 'tall in *winter*. You'd have t'be lounging out 
on the Hatching Sands t'get a good naked pose in *winter*, and then you'd 
burn your butt, and that's nay really very flattering either."

Th'lon holds his hands up futily to his wingleader, "But it, I mean there, 
I don't know what I mean." Sighing, he begins to make his way across the 
pool towards Algizth, "Wasn't /that/ bad. Not my best but still.." he 
murmurs under his breath as he trudges through the water.

Kassima just glances at Kena, and gives a bewildered shrug. She clearly 
still doesn't understand this whole idea, and probably never will.

Kena shares that lack of understanding with Kassima. But it must be a guy 
thing. "Well, how about we go see how you look in those new clothes of 
yours, Mart?"

Being a guy, M'rgan isn't smirking at Th'lon's...misfortune. Certainly 
not. Any smirks you might see on the man's face must be a product of your 
own imagination. "His weyr must've been really cold that day," he murmurs 
to Kena while nodding to her suggestion. "I guess a soak can wait. I'm 
warm enough now."

"Okay, it was cold in there!" Th'lon finally calls out as he and Algizith 
get out of the pool. He quickly start to strap the bronze up.

Kena gives Kassima a wave and Th'lon a wave and surrepticious wink before 
moving to her lifemate's side. "Clear skies everyone."

Kena jumps up onto Cymrith's back, as the dragon warbles a greeting.

Kassima wiggles her fingers after Kena, calling, "Clear skies, all!" 
She'll just not ask about how cold it was. She doesn't want to know. She 
really doesn't.

M'rgan jumps up onto Cymrith's back, using her foreleg as a step.

Cymrith rises up from the steamy waters heading north over the rim of the 
Weyr.

Th'lon grumbles some more as he scrambles up Algizth's side, "Be glad you 
don't have to worry about stuff like that Alg."

Th'lon vaults to Algzith's neck, settling between the high neckridges.

Algizth rises up from the steamy waters heading north over the rim of the 
Weyr.