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Colorful Conversation


Date:  March 5, 2005
Place:  Telgar Weyr Living Cavern
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:  You'd think it would be the Journeyman Weaver's 
assistant who'd teach the greenrider a thing or two about color, but
that's not quite the case when Amelliane, newly arrived at Telgar, 
meets Kassima and Kaisan in the Living Cavern one afternoon. 

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The Log:

Amelliane walks in from the bowl.

Kassima sits at her Wing's table, but--unless the Weyr is suddenly running
to very tiny dragonriders--the person standing in the chair to her right is
not a Wingmate, since he appears to be a rather plump child of about five
Turns or so. The two of them are talking relatively quietly as they pop
tidbits of meat into the mouths of at least a dozen demanding fire-lizards,
most of them blue; what they say doesn't carry so well over the other
sound, although Kaisan's piping little-boy voice can occasionally be made out.

Amelliane enters the living cavern, she is about 20, maybe more, turns, and
clad in a roughly woven dress. Her light brown hair is held back with a
headband, and clear blue eyes scan the area - widening visibly at the sight
of the firelizards. She walks to the end of the table carefully, placing a
small bag on a chair nearby as she nods to the woman and the small boy.
"Greetings," she smiles warmly, and almost instinctively her eyes flick
back to the lizards.

"...really shouldn't try t'be giving the puppies a bath without the
Herder's permission. Nay matter what Kazy says. He's probably just wanting
t'see you get in trouble for the same thing *he* got in trouble for at your
age." Once near the pair, it's easier to hear what Kassima is telling the
child. He gives a slow nod to this, but it's only too clear that most of
his attention is on the chunks of meat in their shared bowl and in getting
them down the throat of the brown fire-lizard on the table right in front
of him. "I should know better than t'try and deliver life lessons and
fire-lizard feedings at the same time," the greenrider, amused, asides to
Amelliane, since she's standing right there. "G'day and all that. Something
I can help you with?"

A light and slightly hoarse laugh sounds in the air at Kassima's latter
words, and Amelliane nods to the woman. "Thankyou, but no. I came in for a
break from work. And then I saw you feeding those," she flicks another
glance at the lizards. "I am not used to seeing them from where I come
from," she states curiously. Looking at the child near the table briefly,
another smile curves her lips and a sun-burnt hand is placed on the back of
a chair. "I am Amelliane, visiting the Weyr with Journeyman Owigden. May I
sit down?"

Kassima remarks, rather wryly, "Consider yourself lucky." This wins a
giggle from Kaisan and a plaintive creel from the green on her arm, into
whose maw she obediantly stuffs a meat scrap. "They're all mine--unless one
of m'children's is trying t'leech a free meal too; 'twouldn't surprise
me--and they've apparently decided they want t'be hand-fed today. Spoiled
brats. There, Kai, Kayedris has had enough; give that piece to Kitrine,"
and she points out a green 'lizard to her son. "Where d'you come from,
then, that they're scarce? Oh, aye, help yourself to a place. You're in
luck. Most of m'Wingmates are done with lunch and off hiding from me a'fore
I can discuss the latest change in formation placing with 'em. Journeyman
Owigden of which Craft?"

"My home is a small Hold in Igen," Amelliane explains as she seats herself
by the table near Kassima and Kaisan - though a little distance away from
the firelizards themselves. "All we ever saw of dragons was when they flew
past in the sky during Threadfall. And firelizards? Only a few times did a
traveller come by who owned one. I'm still trying to get used to seeing
them every day," she admits and idly shuffles her bag around with one hand.
Then, she rests her elbows on the table and nods. "Owigden is a Weaver, and
I accompany him as his help. And I hope to become apprenticed eventually.
We are here to look at your tapestries, and do some repairs." She fishes a
piece of yarn out of her bag, cathing the light of the glowers its yellow
colour glistens like gold.

"Too small t'be having a watchrider, was it?" Kassima asks, sympathetic. "I
grew up in Greystones--which had a watchrider, a'course, but Da's Holding
wasn't so close to the main Hold that I saw them often. Just above when
they flew sweeps, if'n the luck was in. There do still seem t'be a few
Holdings that the pernicious beasts haven't invaded yet." For all her
slandering of fire-lizards, the fingertip that strokes the eyeridges of the
green she's feeding is gentle. And the green croons to her mistress with
shameless adoration. "Good luck t'you in that. Kat would probably be happy
enough t'take on an apprentice with some talent, as I'm assuming you must
have if'n a Journeyman lets you assist."

"Greystones, is that in Telgar?" Amelliane raises a brow slightly and looks
at Kassima. "You must excuse my lack of knowledge, but this is my first
travel away from my Holding." She looks at the firelizard that Kassima
strokes intently, a smile curves her lips. "Well, he had to let me come
along. I stole his favourite shuttle, and refused to give it back until he
agreed." A humorous glint sparks her blue eyes, then she turns serious
again. "I have been here a fortnight, now, and I have met a few people;
among others Stavren and K'nan. But I think I have not yet met Kat?"

Kassima shakes her head. "Nay in Telgar's sweep range, nay. 'Tis in
Benden's, properly--a ways north of Nerat, nay so very far from
Half-Circle. Shuttle?" It takes her a moment to work out that term. Weaver
jargon may not be her forte. "Oh--oh, right, for a loom. Aye? Well, that's
one way of skinning the wherry. Here's hoping you wouldn't meet Kat here."
This, for some reason, is said with a wry grin. "The Kat I refer to in this
case is Katlynn. Masterweaver Katlynn, your Journeyman's Craftmaster. She's
usually down at the Crafthall in Boll."

"Yes, that is right," Amelliane smiles and nods. "Oh dear." She covers her
face with her hands briefly, and then looks up in the ceiling rolling her
eyes at herself. "I should know who Katlynn was. Owigden never -tells- me
anything! The old man is happy to sit around his tapestries and think of
dyes all day long," from the warmth in her voice there is no doubt that the
woman likes the Journeyman Weaver, though. She leans over the table and
selects an apple amongst a few fruits left over from the lunch. "And, you
are a rider as well. There is a weavercraft colour in your knot, I see?"
She raises a brow at Kassima in pleased surprise.

"Well, it can be forgiven. 'Tisn't as if'n Kat's an uncommon nickname,
even--the Weyrleader of Ista's another Kat, which is occasionally confusing
for me since I know 'em both." Kassi grins, and reaches towards a small
aqua 'lizard who hops into her hand for his turn with a happy-sounding
chirr. "You'll doubtless meet her soon or late if'n you do Apprentice.
She's... an experience. I'm a rider, aye. A Weaver color?" Her green eyes
automatically flick down to her own knot in surprise before she
understands, and laughs. It's an amused sound, but not particularly
mocking. "You mean the white? 'Tis coincidence, that. White and black are
Telgar's colors. The green's for Lysseth, m'lifemate, and the red's for
Benden; I Impressed there. All the Crafts have white in the knots
somewhere, methinks. Just like all the Weyrs have black. I do some
modelling for the Weavers now and again, but I can barely sew well enough
t'make m'own riding straps."

"An experience? I look forward to meeting Katlynn, then. And Lysseth you
say," Amelliane nods and bites into the apple - munching thoughtfully for a
while and sinks. "I cannot see the differences between dragons of the same
colour yet, but I guess it is a matter of habit." Kassima's latter words
draw yet another laugh from the Igen weaver. "Good eyes are needed, yes. I
just don't know how Owigden manages it. He is not exactly young any more, I
swear, sometimes it is like he cen see what colours is in the weave just by
touching it."

Kassima chuckles low under her breath. "Don't tell Her Magnificence that.
She'd probably be affronted by the very idea that she could be mistaken for
another green. Some differences are obvious, though--well, like with these
fire-lizards. Y'see Kyril here? How dark his color is? Almost navy. But
there, Quixote, he's a much lighter blue, with a touch of green to him."
The fire-lizards so named pay no attention to what Kassi's saying. They're
more interested in the food, or, in Kyril's case, in digesting. "Dragon
colors vary as much, and size-differences are easier t'see too. My
Lysseth's meters larger than K'nan's Veyath, for instance. And here I'm
getting into lecture mode, aren't I? Shells. I apologize. You caught me
when 'twas trying t'lecture this spawn of mine, and that's probably why."
Kaisan wriggles a bit impatiently on the chair, clearly not wanting to be
reminded of lectures. "'Tis lucky for him that he can continue in his
Craft, whatever the reason. I haven't known many Crafters who ever wanted
t'give it up, however old they got."

Amelliane leans over the table curiously and listens intently to Kassima's
tale, blue eyes searching the firelizards' hide. "Just like weaving a
colour, really, then." She smiles to the child as he turns in the chair. "I
am sorry if I interrupted the lesson you had with your mother," she says
mildly to the boy - a glint in her eyes. Amelliane carefully moves away her
hand as one of the firelizards came too close to it, and nods to Kassima
again. "No, I am glad to hear. Many of the Weyr's traditions are strange to
me. But I like the hot springs you have here a lot. I find myself spending
time there every day, it helps me keep warm on cold days," Amelliane
smiles. A careful observer would note that despite it being summer, the
woman wears rather warm clothes.

"Wasn't a lesson," the five-Turn-old assures. Kaisan's voice has a hint of
his mother's accent, but isn't nearly so strong, although that generic
high, childish quality may disguise some of it. "She was just telling me
why I shouldn't give the puppies a bath, even if they're really muddy and
need it." Someone has apparently not repented much yet. Kassima gives her
son a rueful, amused look, and warns him, "We might have t'talk about that
some more once the Horde is fed, evil-child. Are they bothering you?" she
asks Amelliane. Maybe she noticed the movement. "I can shoo the ones who've
been fed already off t'perches, at least, easy enough. Faranth, you aren't
kidding. You should see 'em in winter. They're the place t'be then, either
that or the Hatching Grounds."

"You should listen to your mother, though," Amelliane smiles to Kaisan and
shakes her head lightly. "Oh no, they are not bothering me at all," she
looks back at Kassima. "I am just not used to them, that is all. Do they
bite?" A strange question? Maybe, but it is obvious that this woman has not
been so close to a firelizard before. "And winter," she nods darkly, "I can
hardly imagine it being colder than this! How do you manage the long and
freezing days then?"

Kassima nevertheless makes shooing motions at a few of the fat and
replete-looking creatures who languish on the table, and some nine or so
take flight to relocate themselves on other perching surfaces in the
Cavern. "They might if'n they had reason to. They haven't as much
compunction against hurting a person as a dragon; they're most likely
t'bite or scratch when they're just out of the egg, which is the same for
dragons, but if'n you threatened me or them then they might try a toothsome
defense. 'Twill nay bite you just for the fun of it, though." She takes the
questions in stride. Maybe she's used to them. "I personally manage 'em by
getting the shards out of here when I can! But we still have work, so--and
'tisn't all bad. There's ice-skating, and snow fights, and if'n you can
stay inside a warm weyr then 'tis really rather pretty when the white stuff
falls. Have you seen much snow?"

"I have never seen snow," Amelliane's blue eyes follow the firelizards as
they flutter off to various places in the Cavern, the sight draws a smile
from her lips. "I have been told it looks like Thread falling, only in
small lumps and not in silvery curtains." She finishes the apple, and
carefully places the core on the table, rubbing her hands gently against
her skirt. "Snow fights?" She laughs and looks at Kassima, "I can only
imagine how that would be with difficulty." Amelliane does seem amused at
the concept, though, her eyes sparkle as she ponders the thought. "Nobody
at my Holding would ever consider sand fights, that is for certain. We have
sand enough as it is. No need to assist in getting it into your mouth, eyes
and clothes," she chuckles.

Kassima's hand pauses in the much-depleted meat bowl as she considers this
parallel. "I wouldn't call 'em much the same," she disagrees, shaking her
head. "Snow doesn't clump like Thread does, and lumps--nay really. That's
more sleet or hail. Even the largest snowflakes tend t'be pretty light.
Closer t'rain, only nay exactly like that either--stick around here long
enough and believe me, you'll see plenty, although if'n you don't stay past
summer you might luck out and miss it. Might." Such an optimist. "The
useful thing about snow is that it melts," she says then, casting an amused
sidelong look to the other woman. "Sand isn't half so obliging, and
'twouldn't be fun at all t'have that go down your back. A'course, 'tisn't
much fun t'have snow go down your back either. But 'tis *terribly* fun
t'drop it down someone else's and listen to 'em shriek like a little girl."

The frown that knits Amelliane's brows suggests that 'hail' and 'sleet' is
indeed unfamiliar as well. Nevertheless, she looks interested in the idea -
and at the woman's latter words, she laughs. A pleasant, slightly hoarse
laughs that sounds in the air for some time. "I would like snowfights," she
states happily. "I might even want to stay just for that. Although, if
Owigden needs look at all the tapestries that he mention, we shall propably
have to stay for the rest of our lives. Lately, he's been talking about
searching through all your magasines for old and forgotten weaves."

"You could, a'course--so long as you're doing some form of work, and it
does sound as if'n you might have your work cut out for you. Nay that I
think our tapestries are in *particularly* bad repair. But they're
intricate things, tapestries." Thus speaks a woman who might appreciate the
textile arts, but doesn't really understand them, and knows it. Kassi
offers a grin. "Won't be far into autumn a'fore the snow's falling. *Trust*
me. Pity me, too, since Kisai will probably be racing on her skates again
this Turn and 'twill spend half m'winter days hoping she doesn't get
herself killed," although this has more of a mother's fond exasperation
than actual concern. The term 'magasines' gets a perplexed look. "I suppose
there might be some old tapestries in Stores. Or hidden away in people's
rooms, more like."

"Oh?" Amelliane looks slightly crestfallen at the thought of the Weyr
having no secret storerooms. "Well, yes, I suppose that there might be some
hidden somewhere else," she concedes and smiles at Kassima. Almost
instinctively, she fishes a few threads up from the bag and lithe fingers
begin weaving them together in a pattern of icy-blue, red and white. "Yes,
from what I have seen some of them needs a good repairing. I guess it's the
climate, being harsh to the colours. You have two children then?" She looks
at the other woman curiously, fingers still busy working with the coloured
yarns.

"I don't know what all rooms are off the less-used corridors," Kassi
mentions, rather thoughtful. "M'*guess* would be that people have ransacked
Stores and other rooms for the good ones long since--but I might be
thinking that only because 'tis what 'twould do if'n 'twere me." Another
fire-lizard is shooed away. "What're you making? Ach, two, don't I
sometimes just *wish*." She seems to be teasing her son with this, who
gives her such a reproachful look that she laughs warmly and leans over to
press a kiss to his head, much to his little-boy disgust. "I have eight
children."

"I might want to go and have a look in some of the less-used rooms. If I am
allowed? Sometimes, it is amazing what people can leave behind." Amelliane
finishes the woven three threads and pours herself a cup of water, drinking
from it before placing it upon the table again - fingers curled around the
mug. "I am working on a piece of a tapestry in the Record Room," she
carries on thoughtfully. "Replacing a few of the red colours there. And
eight children?" She smiles to Kassima. "You are lucky to be blessed with
so many. Who's the father?"

Kassima glances towards the exit that leads to the Inner Caverns. "I don't
see a problem with it, though if'n in doubt you or your Journeyman might
check with the Headwoman t'be sure 'tis all right. If'n nay anyone's using
them, I can't imagine why they'd mind. There. *Finally*." This heralds the
feeding of the final fire-lizard. "Be right back--" She excuses herself
long enough to grab and refill both her mug of cider and Kaisan's glass of
juice, snagging a pair of napkins while at the table; once she's reseated,
she sets to attacking Kai's hands with one of them, scrubbing off the meat
juices. "Muuuuuum! I can do it!" With a snort, she tells him, "Aye, and
if'n I leave it t'you, you'll take one swipe and run off satisfied. All
right. Drink up the juice and you can go." Her child attended to, she
starts wiping her own hands clean. "Replacing the red? Why the blue, then?
I'm blessed, all right, and on days like this I just try t'*remember* that.
The father...." A pause, and then she gives Amelliane a grin. "T'lar,
Jh'rin, E'vrin, J'lyn, I'sai, O'wyn, and I'sai again, in that order."

"Then I will go and have a look, and I will be sure to bring a glower with
me. They are dark. I had a look into one of them." She looks at the
attention that the woman gives to the child and smiles again. "The blue?
Oh!" A lithe finger pushes the woven thread around. "This is nothing. I
just like to have something to do. Doesn't feel right, to sit still."
Amelliane nods to the long row of fathers mentioned, a brow rises slightly
in surprise but there is no judgement in her blue eyes. "Another way of
living than in my holding again," she grins.

"Aye, there are glowbaskets plenty t'spare." Kassima watches Kaisan gulp
down his juice, holding the glass with two hands. The moment it's done, the
child is squirming down from his chair and giving his mother an expectant
look. "Go on, go on. Simaeva can take a turn at keeping you out of trouble
for awhile." It's all he needs to hear, and with a hasty wave to Amelliane
he's pelting off towards the Inner Caverns. The greenrider sighs and
relaxes in her chair once he's gone. "Completely his father's son. You're
nay going t'make it into aught, then?" she asks, nodding towards the yarn.
"Hah. I daresay. 'Tis the most famous difference between Holds and Weyrs, I
guess, the dragons themselves aside. I swear that I'm nay *that*
promiscuous, but flights... and alcohol... well."

Amelliane reaches out a hand tosses the woven thread to the child just
before his leaving, for whatever purpose he might see fit to use it for.
"Not at all," she laughs and shakes her head at Kassima. "I have seen so
many different traditions lately. I like children, myself." She walks over
and pours herself a cup of juice as well, returning to the table and
seating herself. "Are there any in the Weyr who might have knowledge of the
old rooms and halls here? I would rather not get lost to be found years
from now," she grins.

Kaisan, despite his pudge, is fairly quick, and manages to nab the thread
from the air and beam at its giver and yell, "Thanks!" before vanishing.
Kassi chortles after the boy. "I can't wait t'see what he does with
that--I'm sure he'll find some creative use. Truth, I didn't think early on
that I particularly wanted children. Then I had one... and another... and
another, and I realized I did like 'em, because if'n naught else they
certes keep life from ever being dull. The Headwoman would be your best
bet, methinks. Shara. If'n anyone's in charge of the Lower Caverns, 'tis she."

"Yes, with eight children your life would never be dull," Amelliane smiles
and looks after the departing Kaisan for a while. "I wish to have
children," she admits to the other woman, "but somehow, back in the
Holding, I never got married." She shrugs and sips the juice from her cup.
For a moment, the doorway darkens and a man steps into the cavern. Old, and
wrinkled with age but with a proud and straight back. Owigden is dressed in
faded blue colours, and a pair of dark eyes rove around the room.
"Amelliane!" He booms, and raises a hand in greeting. "We should get back
to work."

"Still time for it, I warrant," answers Kassima, tilting her head to one
side. "After Apprenticeship if'n naught else--there are Journeymen and
Masters aplenty married and with children, believe you me. Half of 'em seem
t'be m'kin." With the elder's hand raised in greeting, she automatically
raises her own to return the gesture: "Duties to Weavercraft and her
Masters--" Since he's looking towards her tablemate, she supposes, "'Tis
your Journeyman calling you? A pleasure meeting you, then, Amelliane--I'm
guessing 'tis your name. Kassima's mine. Good luck with finding those
hidden rooms you're seeking."

"Yes, you are right. I look forward to that," Amelliane inclines her head
to Kassima and finishes the last of her juice. "Owigden, well met. I will
be right along!" She smiles at the old man in the doorway, who still peers
around the cavern somewhat grumpily, and nods briefly. "And yes, I am
Amelliane. A pleasure meeting you, Kassima. I hope we will meet again." And
with that, she hopeful would-be apprentice stands up and gathers her cup,
bag and applecore - carrying the latter to a waistbasket and leaving the
former. With a gesture of farewell, she then tucks a shawl tight around her
shoulders and leaves the cavern with the Journeyman; the sound of their
conversation fading with distance.