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Promotional Materials


Date:  October 27, 2004
Place:  Telgar Weyr Inner Caverns
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  I entered this scene somewhat late.  Not too late, 
however, to miss the good stuff:  Claret's been cornered by Yselle,
who happens to be both Icewind's Wingsecond and possessed of a 
motive.  V'lano is on hand to defend his erstwhile Wingmate's honor,
and Kassi... well, Kassi's purpose ends up being to eat banana 
bread mostly, but she offers her green mentee what encouragement 
she may.  Kassi and Vel then chat awhile after the others have 
gone. :)

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The Log:

You walk towards the inner cavern.

"Now? Er... is T'bay around? Enwi?" V'lano perks up, straightening to scan
the cavern while the remainder of Yselle's response to Claret is made - at
which he frowns and slowly turns back around toward the women, brows slowly
drawing deeper and deeper, shadowing his eyes. Firmly, he comes back into
the conversation with soft words, barely above a murmur. "She didn't sound
like she planned on it again, Weyrsecond."

Claret nods in hasty agreement with V'lano's murmur. "Absolutely not. I
mean, I have no plans to repeat that mistake--or others, I hope. I mean, I
know. In the near future," she adds, pulling together her rambling words
and trying to sound focused. "We've been working especially hard at it."

Yselle nods to V'lano. "Thank you weyrling," she says, a little sternly.
And for the question, in a lighter tone "Well I wasn't talking about now
for the party, I've got to go talk to the headwoman. Which reminds me," she
looks at Claret. "So do you."

Kassima has a couple of slices of banana bread in hand when she ambles in
from the Living Caverns, and is displaying her amazing multitasking
abilities by munching on one as she walks. Between this distraction and
whatever errand has her here in the first place, it takes her a few steps
to clue into the fact that there are people here, including two erstwhile
mentees, and that conversation is going on. She abandons her plans to stop
near the group, eavesdropping shamelessly like the shameless eavesdropper
she is; and after swallowing asks lightly, "I shouldn't ask, should I?
G'deve, Vel, Claret, Ys." Her eyes flick between the three, resting at last
on Yselle. "Has someone been demoted back t'Weyrling since the graduation?
And I missed it?"

The onetime butcher's dark eyes spark with a faint, small light; his brows
remain low, throwing his gaze into shadow. Silently he inflates on a
long-drawn breath, then exhales as softly and with as much control as he
can. "Understood," he replies, and it's a suitable reply, given the
sub-conversation about the party and the correction about its timing which
he's meant to understand; but the 'Thank you weyrling' took its toll as
well. Kassima's intrusion is welcome, if the slow curve of a smile
appearing on his mouth is any sign, and he muses dryly, "Maybe it was an
affectionate nickname."

Claret blinks in confusion, though she looks relieved enough to have
escaped further chastisement. For the moment. "I do? But I... Is there a
particular reason why?" she ventures cautiously before shifting her gaze
sideways to give Kassima a small smile. "Evening. I hope nobody's been
demoted," she remarks, looking uneasy at the thought and fidgeting
uncomfortably in her seat.

"Hello Kassima," is Yselle's response. "Well, not today," she leaves that
hanging for a moment, and then allows her epression to soften. "Anyway,
V'lano," allowing that little tiff to blow over, "If you'd organise that
roast, it'd be appreciated," if her eyes stray between him and the newly
arrived wingleader, well, can she be blamed? As for Claret, she says, "Well
unless you want to stay in that weyr you're in now. Which one did you get?
The sloping one? The stinky one? The too small one?"

Kassima supposes, nibbling at the crust of her bread, "Could be--although
of all the possible pet names in the world, I have t'say that 'Weyrling'
strikes me as one of those with a fair amount of traumatic potential."
Indeed. Claret gets a smile, although it's an expression caught between
reassuring and confused. "Sounds like nay. And," mildly, "I'd nay lay
wagers on there being any need for such, really. Was a party mentioned?"
Yselle gets a raised brow for the straying eyes, before she looks back to
Claret with interest in this answer.

And if V'lano smirks a little at the visual connection being drawn - well,
maybe it's just the pleasure at Yselle letting his interference with her
scolding of Claret go by. That pleasure falters only slightly as the nature
of the critique becomes more clear. He puts an elbow on the table and leans
across to murmur, "Good luck." He straightens then and tosses off a wink
for Kassima: "What? I heard it from all kinds of friendly voices for a turn
and a half. I kind of like 'mentee,' though, myself."

Claret's brows draw together again, and she doesn't look any more
enlightened than before. "I've got the gloomy one," she says, accompanying
the statement with suitable moroseness. "I would very much like to have a
different weyr, naturally. It's a little bit depressing, after all. And
small. But we don't get new weyrs unless..." Wrinkling her nose, Claret's
gaze wavers to Kassi and V'lano, curious as to whether they've gotten a
better understanding of what's going on than she.

"Your wingleader asked me to give you this," Yselle fishes something out of
her pocket, and offers it to Claret, in her closed palm, so she gets the
first look at what it is. "Your new one that is. I'm afraid he thinks it's
time to steal her from you, V'lano, and if I were you, Claret, I'd move out
of that place as soon as I could. There are empty weyrs available, the
headwoman will be able to tell you where they are. In the wing area, of
course." Only Claret will be able to see, at first, which wing patch she's
being offered. "And by the way, we had heard you've improved a lot since
that incident. It's good to know though, and reinforce the message," and
for /that/ she offers V'lano another steady look. As for Kassima's raised
eyebrow. She shrugs, and glances again at the bronzerider. Significant? Maybe.

"Would you prefer me t'keep calling you that, then?" Kassi inquires of
V'lano, with a grin the broader for that wink. "I do live t'serve, after
all, at least in such matters as that. --The *gloomy* weyr. I don't think
I've heard about that one a'fore. Is it better or worse than the dung weyr?
Wait, never mind; that'd have t'be a rhetorical question." Although Kassi
doesn't seem inclined to give the game away entire, she does lift her
bread-free hand to give Claret a discreet thumb's up. "Try and filch a big
one if'n you can," she encourages with a definite smile as the meaning of
the comment is revealed. "So Avrieth will have all the wiggle-room she wants."

"Of course. Reinforcement." V'lano returns the steady look with one of his
own - a little less steady, probably, since there's a smile threatening it.
It's lightened his face, though, and put his brows back up where they
belong, and afterward he snicks sidelong at the Thunderbolt 'leader.
"You'll call me precisely whatever comes to mind, pretty much as always,
whatever I say or not," he tells her, half-taunting, half-teasing. To
Claret, then, he adds his own advice: "One with a big ledge, lots of room
for sunning!" Maybe that's Volath's advice, transposed.

"Oh," is Claret's initial reply, made in quite a small voice, as she takes
the patch. "Oh!" is repeated again with enthusiasm, though, as
comprehension finally dawns, and a grin livens her feature. "Thanks
-awfully-. I mean, thank you very much, Weyrsecond." Sketching an
uncertain, but happy salute she moves her fingers, revealing the patch to
be one for Icewind. Turning her head to Kassima, she says dubitably, "I
shall try to get a nice big one. If I can. Though I might feel bad because
Avrieth isn't that big. But one with lots of sun, to be sure!" Claret
assents, giving V'lano a big nod.

Yselle laughs, looking well satisfied with the response, even just quirking
her eyebrows at V'lano, perhaps in honour of the occasion. "I'm very
pleased to be flying with you," she says. "Looking forward to it, in fact -
and yes, don't take the only big one, hm? I'm sure Shara will point you at
the most suitable ones. Dianneth agrees about the sun, by the way," she's
smiling widely, noting, "I had you there, didn't I?"

Kassima brings her arm up--the one attached to the hand without bread in
it--to salute Claret with formal crispness the moment she has that patch in
her grasp. "Felicitations, greenrider," she says with a warmth that undoes
some of the solemnity. "You'll do your Wing and your color proud. I don't
doubt it for a moment." She absolutely beams for her greenriding mentee. As
for her bronzeriding mentee, he gets a decidedly amused retort of, "This
from a man who used t'call me 'sir'? Nay room for casting stones there,
Vel; nay room 'tall."

Yselle murmurs "I bet he doesn't call you that now," really, she's trying
/not/ to smirk.

"I could begin again," V'lano offers promptly, though his dark eyes fit
into the corners between their lids to fix momentarily on Yselle with a
good-natured daring. "I could," he protests, as if it takes some level of
courage to have done it and he's certainly -still- up to it, thank you. But
Claret's the real success here, and he turns his attention back to her to
make congratulations. "You've got the hardest leaders t'look up to, then.
Be on your tail day in, day out - better keep it clean!"

Telgar Weyr> Yselle points to +rwho tgw. Ooh, ah, congrats, Claret. :)

Telgar Weyr> Kassima beams and yays for Claret. :) Another greenrider! And
another mentee who survived! ;)

Claret smiles cheerfully. "Me too. That is, it seems like a grand prospect.
And I shall do my very, very best not to make any dreadful mistakes. You
rather did," she agrees, dipping her chin ruefully before breaking into a,
"Thanks awfully!" any attempts at formality dropping away. She extends her
smile to Kassima, giving her a perfunctory salute along with another
enthusiastic, "Thanks!" Her eyebrows contract at V'lano's statement,
though, and her thanks is a bit milder. "Thank you. I think. That's not
terribly comforting, though, you know. Though I expect it's true."

"Thanks a lot," Yselle mutters drily, eyeing V'lano again. "Last time I
invite /you/ to a party." She nods for Kassima's words. "We /are/ expecting
you to do us proud. We've noticed how hard you've worked to rectify your
mistakes. Mind you, we don't want any more sacks dropped, hm? But we think
you're ready, and it'll be a pleasure to work with you."

"You'll be up to it." This time V'lano's words are firm, a faith in his
fellow in the intonation. He shrugs at Yselle, offering an uneasy grin. "I
thought you'd be flattered," he excuses softly, then picks himself up out
of his chair, mug in hand. The smile eases a little for Claret and he
notes, "I shouldn't keep you," as if he had been. "You'll want to see about
that sun-drenched ledge."

Kassima allows graciously enough, "You could. Though you never know but
that I might start ma'aming you in exchange, turnabout being fair play." As
an afterthought, "And 'twould hold to the earlier bargain that you get t'be
explaining it to anyone who asks." She tries to summon a chiding look for
Yselle and just can't do it, instead making an amused face at her. "Aye,
well, just so long as he doesn't enlighten H'nan. That's all I ask. Anyway,
isn't it a compliment? Implying high standards and all that? I'm wondering
if'n I should be miffed, that I'm evidently less exacting than K'ran." But
the glower she gives V'lano is decidedly mock. Then, "You'll be great,
Claret. Trust me. I am wise and all-knowing, or at least like t'pretend."

"Of course she will be," Yselle echoes V'lano's confidence in Claret.
"Still," she eyes the bronzerider, saying, "I really did want to talk to
you, but you know, I think it can wait, or maybe it's not necessary at
all." She eyes him assessingly. "And as for the Ma'aming, I really don't
want to know, Kassi. I'm sure Volath might have an opinion on the matter.
Greens now, they're not quite so worried about the sex of their riders, so
as for the sirring..." she leaves that hanging and then says, "Mind you,
I've yet to see a sir as pregnant as you were with Raisin."

Claret nods readily. "I'll mind very carefully not to drop any more sacks.
And to improve, to. At least, I hope so." She gives Kassima a wry smile.
"Well, that's settled then. I shall be perfectly fine." Rubbing her fingers
along the patch, Claret tucks it into a pocket for the moment, looking off
in the vague direction of the headwoman. "Well, you're probably right,
V'lano," she agrees, giving him a small smile, though an eyebrow is crooked
for his comment. "I probably ought to go and see the Headwoman about that
as soon as may be."

"Is there something else I can arrange? I'd suggest a full roast even for
just the few of us - I suspect we'll wind up with more than five," V'lano
replies to the Weyrsecond, one brow wanting to twitch downward, which he
makes visible effort to resist. "If there's something else - I'll do
whatever I can. It's not been a - " Another of those silent inhalations
that expand his chest to its full breadth followed by a suppressed,
strained sigh. "Very well-organized day." He does manage a wry grin toward
Kassima, just on the topic of pregnant sirs.

"Kaisan," Kassi corrects, making another face. "Kaisan. His name is Kaisan.
And I'd like t'hear you explain t'Is how he knocked up a man without ever
realizing, aye." With a wry grin for Claret, she says, "If'n it makes you
feel better, I know of at least one Weyrling who did something about
fifteen times worse than drop a sack in Weyrlinghood and did all right for
herself. Let me know if'n you need any help in getting your stuff up t'your
new place. What is this about a roast?" she wants to know now, turning
towards V'lano to wonder. "Is that the party 'twere speaking of? And what's
wrong with the day?"

Claret doesn't seem at all phased by talk of pregnant men, though she does
fidget a bit uncomfortably at Kassi's remark. "Yes, well, I dropped a sack
-after- weyrlinghood. But I daresay it could have been much worse. And
thank you for the offer. I expect I might need some help. At least, if I
acquire some more possessions." Offering up a general salute, Claret
concludes, "I think I'll go find the Headwoman right now. And thank you!"
she repeats to Yselle before turning on heel and walking off through the
caverns.

Claret walks into the dimly lit passage leading toward the Weyr Entrance.

"Well, Claret, the sooner you do it, the better your pick will be," Yselle
urges. "Don't worry, if we didn't think you were ready, you wouldn't have
been tapped." - "Oh you're right, V'lano, parties are like that. You should
bring Breena or..." here she offers another grinning glance for the
wingleader before finishing off with "anyone you like along with you. I
expect Tel will bring at least one person, and I hope T'bay knows he can if
he wants. Do you think he would?" As for Kassima's correction, Ysell
agrees, "Kaisan," eyes twinkling. "Who was it who said his name was
Raisin?" Will Kassi /ever/ live that down?

"Claret, maybe," V'lano replies to Yselle, once the person in question is
safely out of range. "T'bay might bring her, I mean. I - " Well, he's got a
dilemma, hasn't he; and he grins frankly at the Wingleader half of it. "I
think since I've mentioned it in front of Breena I'd have to ask her. And
obviously Kassima knows," on which he tilts his chin downward toward the
long-braided woman. "Should I even ask about what fifteen times worse thing
you have in mind?"

Kassima says, wryly, "Nay anyone, actually. V'dan spread about that 'twas
'Kaisin' for awhile in confusion. From there methinks Kichevio thought it
cute t'call him by the name of a wrinkled fruit product." She wiggles her
fingers and smiles--no, she's beaming again after her green mentee, looking
entirely too pleased. "Another one who made it to a Wing without throwing
herself into a bronzerider's lap naked! So relieved. So, so relieved. Nay
that Claret ever seemed the type." She'll just look innocent, shall she, at
all this grinning going on, though her mouth curves suspiciously. "Ah.
Well. That's a story. Long ago and far away, there was a Weyrling who was
tapped as Weyrling Wingleader for a Threadfall mayhaps half an hour ere the
Fall began. She was very eager t'do her best, but in utter foolishness at
one point left her Wingmates t'escort an injured sister back to the Weyr,
and once the rest of the Wings returned, was pretty thoroughly and
rightfully flayed up one side and down the other for such idiocy. Now she's
a Wingleader again. The world's a strange place." And she, perhaps
unsurprisingly, has a flush of red across her cheekbones by the end of that
tale.

Yselle has a flush of her own, as it happens. "Right," she says, seemingly
completely thrown off-guard. "Well, whoever you want to bring, V'lano. If
you wanted to ask someone else - just to come along say, well, that'd be
fine too." She trails off, looking uncomfortable.

"Well!" V'lano nudges his abandoned chair back up against the table's edge
to make room for putting on a show of planting hands on hips and glaring
grinningly at Kassima. "You make it sound like there's some kind of problem
with throwing oneself naked into a - " The rest of the conversation takes a
moment to catch up. From Kassima to Yselle his gaze moves, a perplexed
expression taking over his face; he so, so subtly removes his hands from
his hips and tries to assume a neutral posture. One finger fidgets
clickingly against a thumbnail. "Ah. Well. I can see how that'd have
possibly been a big problem. I'm glad to hear it turned out well in the
end," he provides, lamely, with a strange look finishing off with Yselle.
"Thank you," he fumbles.

Kassima holds up an index finger. "There is! If'n you're a Weyrling, nay
graduated yet, and you do it in front of an enormous crowd in the Lava
Lounge, and worse yet in front of your mentor who is traumatized until the
end of her days. Must say, Vel, I'd nay have pegged you for wanting t'throw
yourself naked into a bronzerider's lap either; I knew about you and
*M'tri*, but!" She's trying to look even more innocent before. Need one
even say that it's failing? Her shoulders are shaking, in fact, with the
effort not to laugh, though Yselle's reaction helps; she, too, gives the
other greenrider a confused look. "Something amiss, Ys?"

Yselle mutters in a low voice, "Never mind," she's seriously disconcerted
though. "Er, so, bring as many people as you want," she finishes lamely.
"Er... V'lano and M'tri, hm, I didn't think Roberta got to mentioning
that." Still, she frowns, "I should hm, go look at hides, I expect, and
tell K'ran to expect another for afternoon drills. Not that we didn't, but
it's always good to tell him it's been done."

"I think I said one too many things wrong," V'lano explains in gentle
ruefulness - the explanation for Kassima, the tone and the apologetic
expression for Yselle. There's a concerned bend to that look, and he holds
it on the woman who hails from his own previous home before schooling
himself into a lighter frame of mind, rolling his eyes in preparation for
the remark, "Roberta's got plenty to tell without making things up - making
up, I tell you! - about M'tri and I."

"I didn't hear aught in aught you said that should have caused distress,"
Kassima murmurs back to V'lano, still evidently puzzled. The wheels are
turning, but haven't clicked into place yet. While they spin she's glad
enough to turn to the lighter side: "Didn't you know? He's one of M'tri's
bronzeriders! Along with J'len and M'rek and Faranth alone knows how many
others--don't even try t'deny it, Vel; I remember you complaining that you
were second-string in your affairs with him. And complaining rightly, I
might add. But what can we expect? He just hasn't any time t'spend on any
of us now, woe, wurra wurra and woe. If'n you really have t'go, Ys, clear
skies, but I doubt either of us meant t'sent you fleeing t'hides of all
things."

"No it's fine," Yselle says, her gaze clouding. "Work, you know. Uh....
have fun. And V'lano, glad things worked out for you. We'll have to work
out when we're all free, and if you want /me/ to invite someone, if it's
awkward for you," once again, she glances at Kassima, "Feel free to ask."
And she slips out towards the living caverns.

Yselle walks through the large entrance to the Living Cavern.

"Have fun, she says," V'lano murmurs, and draws the chair out from the
table. Instead of slumping into it he just leans heavily on it, one hand
curled over the seatback. "We've been trying to organize this party for
over two turns," he volunteers, "Just so we could all get to know each
other again. We knew each other as kids, most of us, to some degree, you
know." He lifts his head and stares soulfully at the greenrider - but he
can't seem to hold the expression long, as a twitchy grin keeps wanting to
spread onto his mouth from the corners inward. "Another one bites the
dust," he adds.

Kassima quips with some bemusement and some humor after the greenrider's
retreating back, "One really wonders what she thinks we're going t'*do*
here, that she'd bid us that." She takes up station leaning against a
convenient section of wall, arms folded now that the banana bread has long
since met its grisly and teeth-intensive doom. "You and T'bay; both of you
and Yselle; all three of you and T'van, and Enwi?" she hazards. "Going by
what I've heard said--oh, now what's that look for?" A low laugh sounds in
her throat at this last comment. "Wonder which of us 'tis driving them off.
Or is it both, think you?"

"It's me! She was just so hard on Claret. I didn't even see it coming - I
was trying to support her. We're in a - we were in a wing together," V'lano
explains, his words coming quickly, taking a step around the edge of the
table toward the greenrider. He halts haltingly and crosses his arms,
turning his head aside to gaze off toward the myriad tunnels leading out of
the cavern. "Yes, that makes five of us," he notes softly. "I think she
felt I disrespected her, or that I didn't think she was leading well, and
then I said what I said about her being strict - " He raises a hand to
riffle his curls in faint frustration. "It's been a bad day for opening my
mouth."

Kassima's headshake is immediate and vigorous, enough so that a few stray
strands of hair fall into her eyes. "I don't know that I'd feel guilty for
that. I didn't see it all, a'course, but--" She breaks off to mull a
moment, exhaling a long sigh. "Yselle has been... nay at her best lately.
By which I mean best mindset. Something has her down. It sounds as if'n she
might've been taking that out on Claret, which is a shame; if'n all she did
is drop a sack, a lecture for it seems unnecessary." She speaks slower
towards the end, picking carefully through the words. "Nay, you understand,
that one can always argue safely with the Weyrsecond. Regardless of whether
she is mayhaps wrong. She might have taken it differently if'n her mood
were different; m'guess from what I saw is that she's in nay mood t'be
argued with, really. But if'n she were really angry with you, she'd nay
have been teasing you." Eyes holding rueful sympathy, she asks, "Was there
something else today?"

"Well, from overhead. No watchers below." He's quick enough to excuse
Yselle's scolding, but the distant frown sticks on his face. It slowly
fades as his eyes sneak back toward the wingleader, mouth twisting out of
the upturned curve into a perplexed half-smile. "You have a funny
definition of 'safely,'" he informs her, "But I think you must be right
about her mood. Wish I could do something to fix it up." The hand with the
mug in it 'remembers' it's holding the drink, and he looks down at it as
his fingers raise it up. The beverage within has probably altered in
temperature since he poured it, and he sets it aside on the table with a
soft sigh. "Oh, I said something in passing to T'bay he took funny, said
something to Doralle about Volath she took wrong, said all kinds of things
just now to Claret - I keep trying to watch what I say, but sometimes all I
can find to say is the wrong thing." And then he smiles, something grateful
in the grin he turns up upon Kassima. "You don't take what I say wrong, or
if you do, only funny. I appreciate it."

"Full Wingriders drop sacks--rarely--and I doubt there's a Wingleader who
wouldn't give 'em grief for it, but when 'twas tapped I didn't get ragged
on about the incident I mentioned a'fore. Just warned about *nay* worrying
about it to the point that it locked up m'mind." Kassima's shoulders roll
in a not-entirely-comfortable shrug. "But she's Icewind, I'm Thunderbolt,
and Wingleaders' ideas of what you do and don't do are different. Doesn't
mean she's wrong." There's an outright and rueful laugh to follow, and she
notes, "'Twas more hinting that *I* can't say much against Ys when it comes
t'business things, even when I don't agree. Mayhaps this party will
brighten her some. What'd you say to--shells, I'm sorry. That's a nosy
query." Not to say she doesn't still look curious. "There are days that are
just like that. I try, at least." Grinning back, she reaches whimsically to
attempt to tug at a curl of his hair. "I trust if'n I ever am
misunderstanding, you'll tell me. Unless I'm proddy. Then wait until
*later* t'tell me."

"So that was you," V'lano replies, catching on the part of Kassima's reply
he apparently likes best, a grin coming into it. "I'd wondered. And I
-said,- nothing wrong with throwing yourself, and all the rest." Gallant,
he'll spare her a full repetition, though his eyes glint a little with some
satisfaction at the revelation. Forgiving, he goes on, "What'd I say to
which one? T'bay, something about Claret. Claret, everything you heard.
Doralle - well - about Lysseth's flight, and other flights, and owing her
elevator duty - " A little redness comes into his ears there and his glance
skips away, though he ducks his head a bit forward - it encourages, if
anything, the touch to his glossy locks. "You can probably kind of figure
about that one. She's not the mouth that 'Berta is, but I owe her. Big."

Kassima's grin turns sheepish. "Oh, aye," is admitted without hesitation,
"'twas. Err--ack. Wait. 'Twas me who did the whole leaving the Wing in
Threadfall thing. Nay me who did the naked bar self-throwing thing!" Now
she's red, red, red, possibly the reddest she's been in awhile, although
she's laughing too because she simply can't help it. "Can you really
picture me doing such a thing? Ah. T'bay and Claret. Now that's a
potentially interesting subject, I do agree. Only potentially for now,
however, unless I miss the mark, and ah-hah--" So long as she's
encouraging, she'll let her fingers comb lightly through that hair so
profferred, probably rearranging it somewhat. "Good of her t'be lending the
favor. She's really nay a bad one. Is she terribly piqued with you now?"

V'lano's head picks up as the true - ? - guilt comes out, rather than the
one he'd assumed, and the red from his ears strays into his cheeks -
nevertheless, he starts laughing and reaches out, a hand seeking a spot on
the wingleader's shoulder to steady them both through the laughing. "Maybe
I -can- picture it, Kassima - maybe I don't put -anything- past you
anymore. And an earlier you, with flowers in your tresses and stars in your
eyes?" He's outright teasing now, but affectionately, and there's perhaps a
little starriness in his own eyes at that. He sighs to quell some of the
merriment and breathes so he can carry on the conversation. "Potentially,
yes. Part of why I shouldn't have said what I did. But - no, not terribly.
Not upset at all. But she thinks I'm lording something over her." The blush
flares again, and the young bronzerider once more cascades into laughter.
"Something," he repeats himself, for emphasis.

Kassima's mirth increases proportionally with the increase of his blush, so
that she drops her hand from his hair to likewise rest on his shoulder, or
more accurately against the join of shoulder and neck, to help keep on her
feet. "Faranth, you really did think--! Nay in front of a crowd, V'lano,
that much I can promise you, nor as a Weyrling; I graduated at sixteen, for
one thing!" She laughs again and shakes her head in rue of the memory.
"What a little nit 'twas. I doubt you'd have liked that me. She had more
air than aught else between her ears. Still, sometime, if'n you'd like
t'see, I could at least put flowers in m'hair for a spell." The latter
subject is a more serious one; her tone adjusts accordingly. "You have t'be
careful, aye, when you see two people you think might make each other
happy. You don't want t'turn 'em off each other. Aye? Playing matchmaker
sometimes can do it. I'd save the nudging for when you know 'tis what they
both really want, should that time ever come, and--" Forget seriousness.
She chortles, shoulder shaking beneath his hand. "Something. And you
haven't any guesses," she teases, "what the something might be, hmm?"

"Yes, I know - " He's good-natured about the advice on matchmaking, though
his tone's so rueful it's plain he knows he's misstepped. He shakes his
head, squeezing the wingleader's shoulder gently before stepping back,
raising his hand to pat at her fingers alongside his neck as he does so.
Joviality comes back for him to reply, "Not a single guess, Kassima. I
wonder why she'd think I feel like I've got the better of this deal?" His
eyes are merry again, but he's regained enough composure to add on one
last, sweetened rejoinder before he slips out from under her hand and moves
off toward the larger caverns. "I'd be happy to put a flower or two in your
hair for you, if you're ever of a mind to give me a chance. But now - I
think I better get up to the weyr before my ride's decided to leave me
stranded. I'll see you soon!"

Kassima offers a wry grin as apology for the advice, moving her hand enough
to try and thread her fingers briefly through his patting ones. "Well, if'n
you ever come up with any," she jests, if not without both blush and grin
for the second half. "Be warned that I may just take you up on that, should
we ever be somewhere with flowers. Regards t'Volath! Or Doralle," as one
last tease, accompanied by a wink, "should that be necessary."

V'lano walks through the large entrance to the Living Cavern.