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Diva Time


Date:  June 3, 2003
Place:  Telgar Weyr Lake Shore
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:  The Hatching of Daelyth and Palineth's clutch has left
Telgar rife with new Weyrlings again.  For Kassi, this means a chance
to get acquainted all over again with those she knew as Candidates, 
to become acquainted for the first time with the lifemates they've
gained... and, in this particular case, to see the ultimate results of 
Lysseth's Searching prowess. :)  A note:  because the 'Lings didn't
have DTUs at this time, some conversation occurs between Dianneth and
Lysseth within our actual poses rather than being separate as is NC
convention.

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The Log:

Yselle heads over from the central bowl.

Yselle allows Dianneth to wander off.

Early as it is, Kassima and Lysseth--the latter seated in the dried grass
of the bordering meadow, the former walking slowly along the shore with a
blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms--have both clearly been awake awhile,
since the green is rigged in fighting straps and the rider wears a set of
leathers that needs only gloves, helmet, and goggles to be complete. Awake
or not, though, Kassi's preoccupied with her soft singing and doesn't
immediately notice the new arrivals. Lysseth is more aware: she greets both
with a low, brief rumble.

There's a saying that goes 'if you were meant to see the sunrise, it would
have been made later in the day', apparently that's a saying that a certain
newly-hatched green has yet to get her head around because in the early
predawn dimness, Dianneth and her rider emerge from the barracks. The green
even has the bad manners to be awake and full of life, sashaying across the
bowl; her haunches swaying in an exaggerated fashion as she walks. Yselle
looks less awake. She blinks rapidly as though roused from a deep slumber,
and she yawns, covering her mouth belatedly with her hand. Their progress
is perhaps less awkward than some of the other dragonet's; Dianneth seems
to have worked out where her legs should go. So intent on an apparently
one-sided conversation is Yselle that she doesn't seem to notice until
they're nearly /there/ that they're not alone. Once she does, she pulls her
jumper down, salutes briskly and says "Wingleader," in a very stiff, proper
fashion.


Dianneth:

It's as if in the egg, cradled by blood-warmth and caged in by shell, she
said to herself: Just wait til I get out of here, I'll show them something
they'll never forget! Even so young, she's got it, that smug confidence
that shines through clumsy child-falters, that intense charisma that one
day will grow to be overpowering. From tip to tail, the bright, glossy
green dragon is a wonder to behold, and Faranth, does she know it! She is
possessed of a lean, lithe little body and long wings whose malachite sails
and slim shoulder joints hint already at acrobatic power. Softer beryl
shades her throat and belly, blending all too smoothly into breathtaking
kelly green.


Yselle:

	Scrawny, and rather sallow-looking, this girl will at best be described 
as having 'a good personality'. Nature has been particularly cruel to her.
Firstly, her hair is a nondescript shade of brown, rather thin and flyaway,
forever in disarray, and defeating all attempts to constrain it. Then
there's that skin of hers, inflicted with a particularly nasty case of
pustular acne. It's not /all/ over her skin though. After all, then there
wouldn't be room for the scars from the healed lesions. Her eyebrows, dark
and thick, crawl across her face like huge, fuzzy caterpillars, some of the
hairs actually meeting in the middle and are the perfect accompaniment to
the fine dark shadowing over her upper lip -- an onimous portent of years
to come. A rather big mole sits just in front of her left ear, a couple of
stubborn black hairs curling out of it. The one real beauty is her eyes,
liquid brown and large, framed with thick lashes, but they are rarely the
focus of attention when taken in the context of the rest of her face. Her
body is bony and her joints knobbly. She is, in short, absolutely hideous
in appearance. She appears to be about 19 turns of age.
	Yselle's clothes are simple, chosen for their comfort and sturdy 
fabric, rather than decoration. They consist of a simple pair of trous, a 
tunic and jumper, and a sturdy pair of boots. Brown is the predominant 
colour, an indeterminate shade which does little for her complexion. An 
attempt has been made to confine her hair back in a simple thong, but it is 
at best, a feeble effort. On her left shoulder sits the knot of a Telgar 
Weyrling: black and white, threaded with green for her lifemate. It is a 
little frayed -- undoubtedly she is not the first weyrling to wear it -- 
but all the same, it is set at a jaunty angle, as if on show.


Lysseth tracks the progress of the younger green with distant curiosity,
eyes a pale variant of summer sky blue. No movement for her beyond the turn
of neck and head necessary to watch, and the restless flick-flick-flick of
her tailtip in dead grass. "I suppose you really have t'do that?" Kassi
asks morosely, looking up from her close-snuggled son with a decidedly wry
expression. "Will you forgive me if'n I don't return it? I'm saving the
formality for drills... g'morn, Yselle, Dianneth." There's a solemn dip of
her chin towards the young green before the rider permits herself to break
into a broad grin. "And congratulations, since I haven't had a chance t'be
saying it a'fore."

Always a stickler for formality, Yselle should be in heaven with not just
permission, but /orders/ to salute every rider. "Yes Ma'am," she replies.
Dianneth swishes her tail, seemingly annoyed. "Yes I do," she repeats for
her lifemate's benefit. "You remem... oh I guess you don't." With another
swish of her tail, and a toss of her head, Dianneth shows what she thinks
of /that/. It's only then she turns her attention to Lysseth. She looks her
up and down... for a moment her opinion, the cant of her head, seems in
doubt and then she /croons/. "Good morning Ma'am," Yselle adds. "It's very
early isn't it?" Her expression warms to a sleepy smile quickly enough,
though, and she says "Thank you. She's wonderful isn't she?" Dianneth poses
at this, showing off just how perfect she is.

Kassima winces, nay, cringes at the M-word, openly so. "'Wingleader' I have
t'be hearing, but nay the M-word!" she protests. "For the old and
respectable, that is, and since I happen t'be neither 'twill thank you
t'stick to the titles if'n Is won't let you get away with 'Kassi'--nay that
I'd mind you using it anyway, but I've resigned m'self, after this many
Turns. Does she nay care for ma'aming people either?" That 'she' would seem
to be Dianneth, since Kassi indicates her with a tip of her head in that
direction. Lysseth, for her part, bears the regard with grace and something
like dignity; and in answer to the Weyrling green's croon, offers a soft,
melodious warble of her own. "She has a soft spot for the young ones," her
rider murmurs under her breath. Clearly, she's amused by this. "Of all
kinds. Even if'n she won't admit it. Early 'tis, but we've drills t'start
in an hour or so--I thought 'twould come out for a walk with Kaswyn first,
a'fore the bustle starts. A'course she's wonderful. She's green; think you
I'd say different? But i'truth, methinks she's a lovely specimen even among
a lovely breed."

Yselle blushes just a little. "I have to call you by your rank," she says,
in a placating tone. "I'll just call you wingleader. Not Ma'am." She rubs
at her eyes sleepily. Dianneth swishes her tail some more, although in a
less irritated fashion, gazing with some interest in the other green and
her rider, a sizing-up though, rather than mere curiosity. "She wants me
to..." Yselle seems just a little uncomfortable as the mention of her
lifemate draws her gaze to the little green. "She doesn't want me to Ma'am
anyone. She uh..." now Yselle fidgets, plainly loathe to explain. "Uh... is
very pleased to meet you and Lysseth," which surely wasn't her original
reply. Dianneth can explain it herself however, and doesn't seem to need
her lifemate's permission to do so. << Now look, sister, Yselle doesn't
have to be Ma'aming to anyone. She's just as good as anyone. >> The rest of
the explanation follows quickly. << She says it was you who brought her to
me. I guess that means you're all right by me. >> That saying, she poses
for Kassima's inspection, showing off just how lovely she is. "Oh, I guess
we'll be doing that one day soon." Yselle says. "Well, not /soon/, but one
day. I never thought I might be doing /drills/ one day."

"That part I know, more's the pity. 'Greenrider' or just 'rider' might
suffice too, whatever suits you at the time." Kassi casts a quick scanning
glance at her surroundings, and finds a rock to her liking; the leather of
her trousers creaks as she settles herself on it. Kaswyn makes a quiet
sound of protest from within the blankets. "Shhh, love. You should be
asleep *anyway*... is it that she thinks you're superior to everyone and
shouldn't have to?" She lifts an eyebrow as she asks this. There's
amusement in the question. "Or is it something else? And why do I have the
oddest impulse t'strike a pose when she looks at me thus?" Mercifully,
though, she refrains in favor of duly admiring the young green, and if a
corner of her mouth keeps trying to twitch upwards at that posing, well....
<< When the Weyrlingmaster bids it, she should, >> Lysseth points out, her
voice a thing of crystal refractions, blues and greens and purples with a
river of blood red winding between the spires; amusement glows deep within
the facets. << Not because she is less in quality, though, no. Only less in
experience. My pleasure, >> she adds in a flick of silver, << to be of
service. >> From the glance Kassi gives her lifemate, it's quite possible
she's catching the gist of this conversation, but she doesn't comment on
it. Instead, "'Twill be a bit, aye--a few months. At least for these
drills. Marching drills and the like should be soon indeed, so you'll have
a chance t'have it sink in."

Yselle wipes her hands on her tunic, as though even in the chill morning
they're a little sweaty; or perhaps the gesture is just nervous. "She says
I'm just as good as everyone else," it's an echo of what her lifemate is
saying, although with an inflection Dianneth didn't give it -- some
embarrassment. "Oh is that your son? May I see?" she advances a step
forward without even seeming to notice what she's doing. "I've hardly had
time to more than say hello to Levarn since I impressed. Tel and Sav have
taken him into their weyr for a few weeks, he's okay, just "I miss him." 
<< Tel >> that's a sniff, no doubt about it. << Won't I have something to 
tell /that/ dumb Johnny? >> Lysseth's explanation mollifies her only a 
little. << What she's got to /understand/ now is that it's her and me, and 
/I'm/ going to show her what it's all about! >> Confidence bursts through
Dianneth's mindvoice. "She's very forthright," Yselle murmurs in response
to Kassima's question. "She says what she thinks." Her wry tone suggests
that what Dianneth thinks isn't necessarily always for public broadcast.

Kassima shakes her head fractionally at the embarrassment. "'Tis natural
for her t'think nay only that, but that you're *better* than everyone else,
y'know," she assures in an undertone, closing one eye in a quick wink.
"Lysseth believes it of me. I've asked her t'be diplomatic and nay argue
the point, though. A'course you can see--" She's all proud mother in that
moment, shifting her hold on her baby to better let the other woman see him
and nudging the blankets back. A slate blue knit cap's covering his head,
but a few wisps of black hair peek out from beneath; his eyes are still a
foggy newborn blue, and not well-focused. "Yselle, this is Kaswyn. Kaswyn,
Yselle. You'd have t'be missing him, but 'tis better for him t'have someone
who can give him full care for now... nay that it helps much, I suppose.
You should have more time t'spend with him as she gets older. If'n never
*enough* time." There's a snort of distinct dragon laughter from Lysseth.
<< I have a feeling, >> she reflects, << that you will, indeed. On both
counts. You'd best let the Weyrlingmasters show *you* what it's about,
though--unless you want your time together to be short. >> To the point,
much? "Nay harm in that, for now," Kassi murmurs back. "There's time
t'develop discretion. If'n she ever will."

Yselle smiles gratefully at Kassima. "She's always there, you know?" she
looks down,s miles at the baby and says "Hello, Kaswyn, I remember when
Levarn was your age, he was every bit as beautiful as you," she brushes at
his cheek gently with the back of her hand. Dianneth looks, frankly,
disgusted. She /flounces/ to the lake, displeasure in the swaying of her
hips, the tilt of her head. The straight talk bothers her not at all, in
fact, she seems to appreciate it, although the displeasure she's showing
physically comes across in her mindvoice. << Well, I'll hear what they have
to say, but there'll be no shadowing my Yselle! >> a point she has no
qualms in being immovable on. << I itch. >> This announcement is
accompanied by an amplification of that disgust. << She should be paying
attention to me, not that brat. >>

"I do know. And she always will be." Kassi's voice holds a certain
reminiscence, and a fondness that's probably more for the elder green than
the younger. Kaswyn turns his head towards the touch, his tiny mouth
opening though he doesn't yet make a sound; his eyes manage to focus on the
hand, if briefly. "Babies are some of the world's least aesthetic
creatures, if'n you can look at 'em objectively, yet they're all amazingly
beautiful. I'm afraid for how many grandchildren 'twill someday have if'n
he's half as adorable grown." Now Kassi, too, watches Dianneth, with mirth
in her eyes that she doesn't even bother much to hide. Lysseth's being a
*touch* more discreet about it. A touch. << You can't be expected to find
them superior to your own, no, >> the dragon agrees. There's a pause.
Mildly, << That hatchling is my rider's. I am the only one who gets to call
him a brat. But if you itch, then you're right. Perhaps if you made her
feel your itch she would pay attention faster? >>

"I love babies," is Yselle's answer any great surprise. "It was always so
special, having Levarn. He was /mine/, you know, in a way he wasn't anyone
else's." She reaches up to scratch her ear, unconsciously. "Something must
have bitten me," she mutters. << Now /there's/ something we can agree 
on. >> Satisfaction washes through Dianneth's mindtones now. Yselle 
scratches her other ear. "I..." she turns and /stares/ at Dianneth. "Oh, I'm 
so sorry!" she sighs. "Dianneth is itchy. I promised her a bath." << And 
then she's going to make me /shine/. Shine like no dragon has ever shone 
before. >> Because she's worth it, that is loud and clear in her tone. << And 
then /she/ is going to shine. >> With a last smile at the baby, a dropped 
kiss on the forehead, if Kassima doesn't object, Yselle is at her lifemate's
side. "And then I'll oil you," she promises, just as if it were her own
idea. She casts a half-apologetic look over to Kassima, but already she's
scooping up sand to scrub at the green's hide. Quickly, it engrosses her
whole attention -- the attention of both of them. It doesn't take long for
the scrubbing to soothe away Dianneth's irritation.

[Editor's Note:  Yselle had to go at this point, so the scene 
ends here. :) ]