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The Giving Season


Date:  March 9(?), 1997
Place:  Benden Weyr's Living Cavern
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
1967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Some people have souvenirs as a memento of a place they 
visited.  Said souvenirs are supposed to be able to bring back memories
at a glance--and, of course, to befuddle everyone else as to why the heck 
you have one.  When Kassi decided to give Mart a post-Hatching gift, she
picked an item that would serve the purpose admirably... from her
perspective, anyway.  It should be noted that Mart's opinion quite
probably differed.  If you want to see what in Faranth's name I'm talking
about, read on!

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The Log:

M'rgan walks in from the bowl.

M'rgan walks into the cavern with an easy stride, one hand hidden behind 
his back. His blue eyes flick around the room as he calls out the 
traditional duties. Spotting Kassima, he smiles and heads that way.

Kindre walks in from the bowl.

Kassima looks up from, yes, you guessed it, her dinner plate. Is there 
ever a time she *isn't* eating when she's in here? "Mart! Heya and g'day--
oh, and those duties things again. I s'pose I should be remembering to 
give those. What's that behind your back?"

Kindre returns Salless' smile, as always, before striding over to fetch a 
glass of white and a roll for herself. Turning around, she smiles, 
"Evening Kassi, M'rgan. Ah," she grins and waves the roll dismissively, 
"Duties, of course," before sliding into a seat.

M'rgan places his free hand flat on the table as he leans towards Kassi. 
Just as his face is a few feet from hers he whips his other arm around and 
presents her with the bouquet of flowers from the Southern continent. 
"Thank you."

Kassima grins and waves to Kin with her slice of jam-slathered nutbread. 
Mostly finished with her meal, she seems to be taking her time with the 
bread, as she always does. "And g'day t'you too, goldrider. It will never 
cease to amaze me how nay anyone ever seems to come in here without being 
followed, but I digre--" She breaks off as she's suddenly presented with 
the flowers, blinking in pleased surprise. "Why, how beautiful! Thankee, 
and you're welcome--though for what, I'm nay precisely certain."

Kindre blinks at the sudden movement, almost spilling her wine, then 
smiles. "They're lovely, though if I were you, Kassi, I'd check for a trap 
lying within," she teases.

M'rgan grins broadly as he straightens up. "For the Water," he says with a 
wink. "It worked." The brownrider puffs up his chest in pride as he turns 
towards Kindre. "That's why Kena wasn't at the Hatching."

Kindre quirks a brow and frowns, betraying her confussion at the 
vagueness. Pondering a moment, she finally inquires, "Wateer..Kena...Oh! 
Do you mean..." Her eyes widen as she looks at the brownrider expectantly.

Kassima laughs and protests, "But the Water's hardly m'fault, you know! 
Congratulations, Mart! Much though I fear your eventual spawn, I can't 
help but be thrilled for you and Kena... which probably means I should get 
m'head checked. But seriously, didn't I tell you so?" She winks. "Though I 
confess to being a bit concerned that both folk who drank the Water on the 
same eve as I seem to have come down with or caused the Flu."

M'rgan nodnodnods at Kindre's question. That's exactly what he means. "I'm 
going to be a father!" He sways slightly as if he's about to break into a 
jig. His shiny, new shoulder knot swings in counter-time. "It'll get you 
one of these days," he says to Kassi with a shake of his finger and a 
laugh. "Thank you," he repeats.

"Crackdust, congrats M'rgan," Kindre exclaims now that she's certain of 
her suspicions. "You both must be so excited..." Where she sits she can't 
quite see the object swinging, "What'd you get for him, Kassi?"

Kassima shakes her own finger at Mart. "When porcines sprout wings, 
mayhaps! Thought of any names yet?" She fingers the petals of her bouquet, 
and adjusts her hold so that she can cradle the flowers in one arm, sort 
of like Miss America might if there were a Miss America on Pern. "Wait a 
moment, Mart. What's that on your shoulder, now?" She squints, trying to 
get a good look at the swinging knot.

Kassima snaps her fingers and laughs. "That's right! I'd almost 
forgotten--Mart, d'you recall my saying I'd gotten something of a gift for 
you, just as for Kin?"

"I'm certainly excited though Kena seems less so. She's worried about 
getting fat and all that. Like I'd care." With a small bow to Kindre and 
Kassima, M'rgan slides out a chair and drops into a seat, immediately 
leaning back, kicking his feet up on another chair, and getting 
comfortable. "Kena suggested Kegan if it's a boy but I think I like Kemart 
better myself." His expression breaks into a slow grin as Kassi stares at 
his knot. "Oh, that's just my wingsecond's knot."

Kindre chuckles softly, "Added girth: reason seven hundre and sixteen," 
she says mirthfully and winks. Idling to take a small bite of her roll 
then washing it down with a swallow of wine, her head tilts. "Kemart...
Kemart...hrm, I think I like Kegan mayhap a smidge better..." her musing 
of names cuts off when the realizaion hits her. Blinking, she stares a 
bit, "Wingsecond? Shells, Mart, congrats twicely!"

Kassima hrms. "Kemart. If he Impressed, he'd be K'mart... there's just 
something about that name. And if'n 'tis a lass? You know, mayhaps he or 
she would grow to take up 'throwing as a hobby... I think I'll get him or 
her a knife for the first Turnday. Can never start too early." Visions of 
children equipped with implements of death dance through Kassi's head for 
a long moment before those last words register. "Your *what* knot? 
Wingsecond? You?" Believe it or not, she sounds more surprised than 
incredulous. "Shards! Your luck just doesn't run out, brownie--
felicitations again!"

Stifling his laugh, M'rgan turns slightly away to glance at one of the 
decorated baskets on the wall. He says in a sort of quiet, humble aside, 
"And Kena was promoted to headwoman." Turning back to the two women, he 
returns to the previous topic of conversation. "I'm not sure myself. I 
can't figure out a way to make our names blend into a name for a girl. 
Maybe we'll include a part of my sister's name or something."

"Anna, mayhap," Kindre offers before wrinkling her lips as she ponders, 
"Though, true enough, finding a softer blend might be a test."

T'fian walks in from the bowl.

Salless waves her dustcloth at the wingleader of Skyfire.

Kassima claps her hands together in absolute glee. "Kena to Headwoman! 
You're full of wonderful news, too! 'Tween you, she, and Ryi, this must be 
promotion season! Names, names...." Brooding over the subject for a 
moment, she eventually suggests, "Kemara? Marina? Rannea? Tianne? G'day, 
sir." This is probably not a name suggestion, as it's directed to T'fian 
and accompanied by a salute.

T'fian returns Kassima's salute distractedly as he quickly strides over to 
the Skyfire table, any trace of a limp now gone.

Kindre turns her head, peering towards the cavern entrance. Spotting the 
Wingleader, she smiles and waves, "Evening, T'fian. How fares Meroth and 
yourself," she wonders of their progress. Sipping her wine before nodding, 
she smirks a bit, "Jays, the luck surrounding you is almost frightening, 
Mart...give my congrats to Kena as well, for both wonderful events." Eyes 
fall to Kassi, bfore oh'ing, "Ryialla, to Wingsecond, I had almost 
forgotten..."

M'rgan throws an arm over the back of his chair as he listens to Kassima 
list off names. "Maybe Tianne. Or Tianna. Cause then we'd get a little of 
Julaina's name in there as well...So, what's been happening here in the 
Sevenday since I left? How are the weyrlings getting along?" At Kassi's 
greeting, the Reaches brownrider turns in his seat, greeting the Skyfire 
wingleader as well.

Kassima suddenly recalls an earlier topic of conversation, and snaps back 
to it. "About that gift, Mart--'tis naught to speak of, but I really 
should get it to you ere you have to be gone again. Someone remind me 
a'fore then. As to the 'Lings, they seem t'be doing well; I've seen them 
bathing their lifemates at the Lake a time or two, and I can quite 
honestly say that all of them are handsome dragonets."

T'fian looks over at Kindre, just noticing the goldrider. "Oh, good 
evening, Weyrwoman," he says, saluting, before sitting at the Skyfire 
bench. "And to you as well, Brownrider," he nods to M'rgan. "Meroth is 
still not cleared for flight, but he is well." He takes a deep breath. "Or 
at least the healers are saying he is getting better." He changes the 
subject quickly. "What of Ryi?"

T'fian takes a closer look at the High Reaches Weyr and quickly corrects 
himself. "My apologies, Wingsecond," he says. "I was unaware of your 
rank."

"That's good to hear, T'fian," Kindre says sincerely before curious eyes 
glance back at Kassima. Peering around the table where they sit, in an 
attempt to spy the object should it be here, she nods quickly, "The 
weyrling pairs seem healthy...though I suppose I'm biased in saying it, 
they -are- quite lovely looking creatures."

Kassima remarks, "'Twas naught but mentioning her new promotion, sir; 
'twas commenting that, between her and Mart's to the same positions in 
their Wings within days of each other, it must be contagious." She 
chuckles, and nods to Mart. "Tianne and Tianna are both fair names; I've a 
fire-lizard with one similar, in fact."

M'rgan chuckles lightly. "You didn't have to get me anything, you know, 
Kassi. Though whatever it is I hope it's more like the rug and less like 
that painting. I can only stay for about another half candlemark or...No 
apologies necessary, Wingleader. I wasn't aware of it until a couple of 
days ago myself." To Kassima, "How many firelizards does that make for you 
now?"

Alyssa walks in from the bowl.

Kassima grins and admits, "I wouldn't say 'tis another rug, precisely; 
hold on but for a nonce, and I'll get it from Lysseth's sacks." Leaving 
her food but taking the flowers with her, she sprints out, and comes back 
after an appropriately long interval with a small leather-wrapped package. 
Even as she re-enters, she says, "And 'tis fifty and eight now, brownie."

Alyssa places her riding gear on a table to free both hands, then salutes 
Kindre and T'fian. "Weyrwoman, sir. Evening all."

T'fian hops up from the Skyfire bench and makes his way over to the night 
hearth. Halfway there he spots Alyssa and smiles. "Good evening, 
Wingsecond," he says formally, returning her salute. "How fares your 
wing?"

M'rgan cringes at the count Kassi gives. "I'll never understand that...
Evening, Wingsecond. 'Reaches' duties."

"My wing, sir, fares well," replies Alyssa with that same smile, "save for 
the absence of handsome pale blues at the lead. How are you?"

Kindre smiles and waves over to Alyssa, "Evening, dearheart...any good 
news? Happy events? Seems to be contagious of late," she teases.

Kassima sets the package on the table beside Mart, then spins on her heel 
to wave to Lys. "Evening and g'day, Wingsecond." She settles back down in 
her chair with a rustle from the flowers, and pokes Mart's arm lightly. 
"Go on, open it!"

T'fian grins. "Bored," he says. "All though, since Meroth's healing better 
than I had previously expected he might, all in all, it's not so bad. More 
of an extended vacation." He chuckles. "Except I can't get out to go down 
South."

Alyssa's smile relaxes somewhat at this report. "Adonith checks on Meroth 
continuously...I'm surprised he hasn't complained. Good even, Kassima." 

Alyssa makes her way toward Skyfire's table, abandoning the thought of 
getting drink for herself. "I don't know that I have good news to impart, 
Kindre, other than what T'fian has said. I'm afraid I worry far too much 
over Meroth."

Mindful as always of Kassima's tendency to give gifts that sometimes 
please the giver more than the receiver, M'rgan gingerly gives the package 
a few pokes before starting to unwrap it. "Yes, ma'am."

T'fian shakes his head at Alyssa. "He loves the attention, but there's 
thirty-four other riders to be concerned about more." He finishes pouring 
himself a mug of klah and makes his way back to the Skyfire table himself.

T'fian sits on a bench at the long table for Skyfire wing.

Nodding, Alyssa says as she sits, "Trust me, sir, they get my ample 
attention. Partially thanks to the fact that I am now free from my 
Candidate duties."

Kassima grimaces at Mart. "Ma'am? Cut that out, or I'll start sirring and 
saluting you until the end of your days." She leans over to watch the 
unwrapping of the package. What emerges is an odd metal device; since it 
shows no signs of wear and tear, it must be brand new and quite possibly 
commissioned. The *purpose* of such a device is unclear, though a 
Beastcrafter might well know. How Kassi learned of it is a mystery. It 
could only be.... "An Emascu-something," Kassi explains with a positively 
wicked grin. "Emascu... lator! Aye, that's what Tria called it--an 
Emasculator."

Alyssa sits on a bench at the long table for Skyfire wing.

T'fian glances towards the bowl, smiling. "Now they're in Sionelle's 
hands," he says. "Poor weyrlings. But I can't argue that Sionelle'll scare 
everything they need to know into them." The bluerider looks whistful for 
a moment as he finishes that sentence.

Kindre looks expectantly at the package until it's unwrapped. The twinkly 
of light on the metal causes her brows to furrow as she is unfamiliar, 
mostly, of the craft. "A...what," is her slow query.

Alyssa says with firm conviction, "Sionelle will be the best of 
weyrlingmasters." After a moment she adds with a wink and hand on T'fian's 
arm, "Second only to one."

M'rgan picks up the device and starts to examine it until Kassima names 
it. *clunk* The Emasculator ends back up on the table as the brownrider 
suddenly feels the need to cross his legs. "Kassi!"

"Emasculator," Kassi repeats for Kindre's benefit. "Or maybe it was 
castrator? Nay, nay, I'm *certain* that's what Tria told me it was named." 
She gives Mart her best far-too-sweet, far-from-trustworthy smile. "Don't 
you agree that it's the *perfect* gift for you, brownie?"

T'fian chuckles. "I wond--" he trails off, hearing the clunk as M'rgan 
drops something. He looks over at that table for a moment, then back. "I 
wonder who you could possibly mean? Cerilla?" he finishes, smiling.
Alyssa does something uncharacteristic for her: she pokes her tongue out 
at T'fian. "See if I compliment *you* again," she laughs, plainly in a 
good mood.

"Cas..castrator," Kindre mumbles out. She understands that word. Blinking 
a few more times as she idly studies th contraption before bursting into 
quiet giggles and shaking her head.

M'rgan can't even bring himself to look at the device as he hunches over 
in his chair. He can, however, look at Kassi and his glare suggests his 
opinion of the appropriateness of that particular gift.

T'fian crosses his arm, and with mock-sterness says, "Is this the proper 
respect a Wingsecond shows her Wingleader? Even if that Wingleader is 
currently not leading any wing." He smiles. "And thank you. I think I 
enjoyed being a weyrlingmaster far too much for my own good."

Alyssa says with a warm smile, "You'll be back at the lead of that wing 
soon enough, T'fian, I am happy to say. But for naught, truly...by the 
time things are settled winter will be here and less 'Fall, thank 
Faranth."

Kassima meets Mart's glare with one of those *entirely* unrepetant 
expressions on her face. "Y'know," she muses, "I could always give one to 
Kena, too. I think she'd get some use out of it, especially after the 
birthing if she wishes to assure that she never has to go through that 
again."

T'fian nods. "It's already getting cool," he agrees. "And there's been 
snow up in the higher elevations according to the reports Ursa's been 
giving to me." He shrugs. "But it'll give Meroth time to regain his 
strength and work on formation flying." He chuckles. "And it gives me more 
time to watch the Weyrlings."

Kindre attempts to sit quietly...laughing aloud would be wrong. Deciding 
to snack on the roll she grabbed earlier, she avoids looking at the 'gift' 
or either rider.

"They're still rather young, T'fian," says Alyssa quietly. "And speaking 
on formation...has Merla spoken to you about her idea?"

T'fian shakes his head. "Do you mean the Blue/Green Performance Wing?" he 
asks. "She's been toying with that idea forever. Even signed up for it 
myself several Turns ago before I had all these responsibilities."

Alyssa nods her concurrence then adds after a pause, "This winter might be 
a good time to work on that, I thought. Um...she suggested I should look 
into it.

With an expression of teasing prankishness, M'rgan reaches over to 
Kassima's plate and grabs the remaining roll there and in a twist of his 
wrist, sends it soaring towards her.

Kassima's attention is caught by an overheard word. "Blue-Green what?" she 
calls over to the Skyfire Leader and Second, just in time to get hit in 
the face with a roll. Startled, she yanks back involuntarily in her chair 
and goes toppling over backwards. A muffled, "Aigh," floats up from the 
floor.

Alyssa repeats for Kassima's benefit, "A Blue/Green performance wing, such 
as we had over Bitra."

T'fian looks thoughtful for a moment. "During the winter, there should be 
no problem with it." He looks over at Kassima as she voices her question, 
just in time to see her struck by a roll. He arches his eyebrow, not 
commenting on to him the inappropriateness of Riders tossing food at each 
other.

Kindre's expression of rolled eyes while scooting a supposedly safe 
distance from the green- and brown-riders betrays her thoughts of 'Here we 
go again...' Peering over at the fallen Kassima, she wonders, "Are you 
alright, Kassi," though makes no movements to get closer to them.

"Oh!" is the next exclamation to be heard from the direction of the floor. 
"Sounds intriguing. You did a fine job leading that, Lys, if'n I may say 
so." The greenrider's head peeks up over the table as she gets to her 
knees, then stands and picks up the chair. "You," she informs M'rgan, "are 
evil. Just so y'know."

Alyssa's back is to Kassima, so fortunately (or not) she did not see the 
greenrider topple over. "It's a little...unusual, sir, but since she asked 
I thought I could see about getting a senior rider to...sort of sponsor 
it, if you will."

M'rgan's eyes go wide *oops* as Kassima topples though Kindre beats him to 
the question. Like her he doesn't move but watches the other side of the 
table with some concern. "Just taking lessons from you, Kassi."

T'fian turns away from the sprawled Kassima, shaking his head, to look 
back at his wingsecond. "No, I'm not quite sure I follow."

Alyssa tugs a bit at her earlobe and says, "I would like to see someone 
with more experience lead it, sir. Such as you, perhaps. Or M'kla?"

Ofira walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Tresselin walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Kassima settles into her chair with a faint wince, and chuckles at Mart's 
expression. "I'm fine," she assures him. "That happens more than you'd 
think--or mayhaps nay. I suppose I deserved that, after the Emasculator--
still, I'll argue till m'dying day that there's nay better gift for me to 
give you, and I know there are others who'd agree."

Ofira smiles, "'Evening all." She goes over to survey the table, staring 
indecisively at the food.

Tresselin follows Ofira in, waving.

T'fian bites his lip. "I do not believe M'kla would be up to it, 
considering her responsibilities as Weyrsecond, and because the 
dragonhealers have limited what Torinth can do because of ... " he pauses 
and then quickly continues ... "that incident several turns ago. And 
during the 'Fall seasons, I'm not sure if we could adjust the scheduling 
to allow time to work on non-combat drills, unless the entire wing took 
part." He continues to mull this over, nodding distractedly at Ofira and 
Tresselin.

Alyssa shrugs her shoulders and confesses, "That's why someone like you 
would have to help, sir. But I think it's a grand idea to help Weyr/Hold 
relations."

How else can M'rgan respond to Kassima's words but with a heartfelt roll 
of his eyes. 'I don't suppose you have the names of those 'others'?"

Ofira finally selects some bread and daringly some cheese and goes to sit 
down. "Want to come sit with me Tresselin?"

Tresselin peers over Ofira's shoulder at the table. Nodding, she grabs a 
few meatrolls and follows Ofira, munching quietly on one of them.

Ofira avoids looking at the meatrolls, or inhaling their aroma, a task at 
which she now excels. "So, did you ever get Alnar straightened out with 
five and six this morning?"

Kassima tosses in her two marks' worth into Lys and T'fian's discussion 
with, "Bitra certes seemed pleased about the aerial display, and--well, 
this is just my thought; take it as you will--exercising and strengthening 
the natural blue-green agility would be nay bad thing for 'Fall or 
performance either way." Poking her nose out of what's probably not her 
business, she retreats to safer territory. "Well, Tria said 'twas perfect, 
and K'nan thought 'twas evil--which a'course means he approves...."

At the sound of her son's name, Alyssa glances toward the master baker and 
says, a little worriedly, "Alnar's causing problems, is he?"

Tresselin nods. "I think he has them figured out now. The next step is 
seven." She grins at Alyssa and waits for Ofira to answer.

T'fian nods. "I think so, too," he agrees. "And during the winter season 
it should be no problem to set up the drills. I just worry that during the 
other seasons when Thread falls that the extensive training necessary for 
an arial display wing would hamper the combat drills."

Dreya walks in from the bowl.

Ofira smiles, "Not at all. I just happened to come upon him talking with 
Tresselin and going over his numbers this morning. Five and six seemed to 
be a little difficult. Still, I think he's doing pretty well for only, 
what? Four turns?"

Tresselin nods at Ofira. "He told me he was four Turns this morning. I'd 
like to see him read, if I come upon him tomorrow. He's very smart." The 
last sentence is directed more toward Alyssa.

Alyssa says with a proud smile, "He gets that from his father..." before 
addressing what T'fian has just said. "Kassima's right, sir. It did go 
over well. And perhaps we can help in the wintertime and use it as some 
reward for the best riders?"

M'rgan directs an amiable smile to the girl who just entered before 
focusing his attention on that evil greenrider he calls friend once again. 
"K'nan, huh? Well that's to be expected. He's just as bad as you are."

Ofira smiles and leans over to Tresselin, whispering.

Ofira mutters to Tresselin, "... mother as..."

Kassima suggests, "You could accept only volunteers--people who are 
willing to give up a measure their otherwise free time in exchange for 
being able to show what their dragons can do. Flying drills could be run 
later in the evening and at night, so as nay to hamper with Thread drills 
in the morn. For days right a'fore a performance, so long as they weren't 
'Fall days, the days-off could be coordinated so that those in the Wing 
could have the day to practice rather than to relax...." She shrugs, and 
smiles ruefully. "A'course, most of that's likely nonsense on my part, but 
Faranth knows that I do love to spout off nonsense."

Tresselin nods at Ofira, grinning. "That, too, certainly!" She looks over 
and smiles at Dreya briefly.

M'rgan murmurs with a smirk, "Faranth knows."

Kassima turns her attention back to that easy-to-victimize 'Reaches 
Wingsecond that she so enjoys tormenting. "Naturally! After all, he was 
m'mentor as a 'Ling; perhaps he passed on some of his evil to me."

Ofira follows Tresselin's gaze and smiles at the young woman as well.

T'fian nods, thoughtfully. He's obviously still undecided about this. He 
looks over at Kassima. "It's not nonsense at all, Greenrider," he replies. 
"And it does sound reasonable." He looks back at Alyssa.

Dreya yawns widely, not bothering to hide it. Taken aback for some reason, 
she musters the presense of mind to smile back at all those nice, 
friendly (seeming?) people who greeted her. She skirts the edges of the 
conversation and snatches up a cupfull of what she /hopes/ is nice, tasty 
drink. No laxatives.

Ofira looks back at the bread and cheese and wrinkles her nose. "Did I say 
this was a good idea?" she asks Tresselin.

Tresselin laughs. "You did! Would you like some soup or something instead? 
I'm sure I can get one of your apprentices to make you some."

M'rgan shakes his head. "I think K'nan kept it all for himself and yours 
is your own." With a clunk the front legs of his chair return to the floor 
as he stretches his back, arms flailing over his head. Just after the 
final pop of his spine, M'rgan begins to make his excuses. "Time for me to 
get back to the Weyr. Ularrith has an appointment with a dragonhealer."

T'fian looks over at M'rgan and comments drily, "You are at /the/ Weyr, 
Wingsecond."

Kassima nods to Dreya in absent greeting, then shrugs at T'fian with a 
faint smile. "'Tis just that it occured to me, sir, that there're nay 
doubt riders who'd be willing to sacrifice a bit of time for the 
opportunity. Some of the dragons would likely enjoy the chance to show 
off, and I know that the Bitran display was certainly a pleasure...." She 
snorts at Mart and quips with a grin, "The Wingleader is always right. 
Hope Ularrith's nay ill or aught? Oh, and don't forget your Emasculator."

Ofira sighs deeply, "No...thank you. It wouldn't be with me long enough to 
matter." She is fairly lost in self pity.

T'fian smiles, then, to soften the unabashed Weyr bias just mentioned.

M'rgan cocks his head to the west with a laugh. "Nope. /The/ Weyr is 
thataway, Wingleader. Been there for a Sevenday now, much to the delight 
of my weyrmate." The last has a wink accompanying it. As he slides his 
chair back, he eyes that device once again. "I think you should keep it, 
Kassi. Somehow I think I'd rather be threatened with it than with one of 
those knives of yours."

Tresselin tentatively places a hand on Ofira's shoulder. "It's all worth 
it, though, in my opinion." She grins.

Alyssa cannot help hearing M'rgan and asks T'fian quietly, "What ARE they 
talking about?"

Kassima eyes the contraption on the table. "Whatever for? Nay like the 
result would be any different, eh? Besides--I got Kin a kilt; only fair 
that I get you something as well."

Ofira nods, a smile breaking through, "Oh, you're right. I guess I'm jsut 
feeling a little tired. So, tell me what's new with you?"

T'fian looks back at Kassima and nods. "You do have a point." To Alyssa he 
says, "There would, of course, have to be limits on the riders in the 
Wing, to avoid having everybody too tired from performance drilling to do 
their regular drills or to fly 'Fall. And w'd have to talk with the 
Weyrleader..." he lowers his voice, "if the man could be bothered to come 
out of his Weyr for something nonessential." He shakes his head and 
answers. "oh, he seemed to think that Reaches was /the/ Weyr whereas we 
all know Benden is."

Tresselin shakes her head. "Nothing at all, to be truthful. There's all 
the weyrlings running about now, and that's new, I suppose..."

Alyssa ohs, not pursuing that any longer. Then, unable to keep from asking 
any longer, she asks quietly, "How are YOU feeling, T'fian?"

With a deep sigh, M'rgan grabs the emasculator as he rises. "Please 
forgive me if I don't say thank you for your thoughtful gift...Though I do 
thank you for the Water."

Kassima laughs. "I almost wish I could take credit, Mart, for an eviller 
liquid has never been created--nay even M'kla's klah, if'n 'tis me you're 
asking. But thankee muchly for the flowers, and please congratulate Kena 
again for me?"

Ofira nods to Tresselin. "True...it's much quieter in the kitchen now. 
Kind of a relief, but I also kind of miss it."

T'fian shrugs. "Oh. I want to get back into action," he says honestly. "I 
hate being stuck down here while you and Ursa and Ryi take my Wing into 
action and do everything I should be doing."

Tresselin grins. "But you have your students to keep you company in there, 
right? How are they coming?"

M'rgan starts to salute with the hand holding the emasculator but the 
glint from the device reminds him and he switches it to his other hand. "I 
will. Fair be the wind."

Alyssa says with a smile, trying to be reassuring, "The wing is doing well 
enough...Ursa is a grand wingleader, you know. She's no T'fian, but she 
does her best. So do Ryialla and I."

Kassima salutes Mart smartly, clicking her boot-heels together for good 
measure. "Wind to your wings, Wingsecond, and Benden's duties to the 
'Reaches and her queens."

Ofira smiles, "Gwynden is coming along very well. A sweet girl. I have a 
bit of a problem with one of the other ones, I'm afraid," she ends, the 
smile fading.

Alyssa glances toward M'rgan and inquires, "Leaving, M'rgan?"

M'rgan shoves the emascular into his pocket while nodding to Alyssa. "I 
have to get back to the Reaches. Ularrith's got an appointment with a 
dragonhealer."

T'fian smiles. "I'm sure you do. And I feel especially indebted to Ursa. 
I'm wasn't sure she was ready for a wingleadership, but she's done so well 
for Skyfire. I feel sort of bad that when you eventually clear us to 
return that she'll return to being a wingsecond."

Tresselin blinks. "It wasn't that long ago you had the /other/ problem 
student...you must be having a bad run of them. What's she - or he - doing 
wrong?"

"A dragonhealer?" Alyssa's voice is a trifle worried. "He's well, isn't 
he?" She nods to T'fian's words, concurring entirely, though she adds 
quietly, "We'd still rather have you back."

Kassima comments, "What's wrong with Ularrith anyway, Mart? You didn't 
hurt him trying to ride him in your overly-fat state?" Her tone, of 
course, is purely teasing.

Ofira shakes her head, "Oh, nothing so bad as Paris. But a promising 
apprentice who I'm afraid I may lose. I hope not though. It's been a 
tricky situation. But with apprentices come problems. That's how it goes."

M'rgan shakes his head. "Nothing's wrong that three months flying no 
further than the lake didn't cause. I have to have a dragonhealer check 
him every day to keep track of his progress on getting back into fighting 
shape." The brownrider taps his new wingsecond's knot. "Even though I've 
got this, we fight with the queens' wing. Ularrith's not ready for the 
speed of the higher levels."

T'fian smiles. "I will happily take that compliment, then, Alyssa. And I'd 
rather have me back, too."

Alyssa excuses herself from T'fian to cross the living cavern and extend 
her hand to M'rgan. "Congratulations on the promotion, Wingsecond...and my 
duty to your Weyr and regards to Ularrith. To be honest...I will miss 
him."

Tresselin nods. "I would think those situations would follow apprentices 
around. How many do you have now?"

Kassima nods to Mart. "'Twill give you both time, most likely, to get used 
to being back in the middle of things again. Good luck to you both; 
believe it or nay, I've faith you'll both be back to fighting shape within 
nay time 'tall."

Ofira smiles, "My personal apprentices, or the Craft as a whole?"

M'rgan takes Alyssa's hand, a smile of surprise on his slightly-plump 
features. "Thank you. We both enjoyed our time here. It feels strange 
being back at the Reaches now."

Tresselin says "Your personal ones. I assume those are the ones you'd be 
closest to."

Kassima smiles at Mart. "You're always welcome to visit, y'know. 
Especially if'n you're tired enough to fall asleep in here so that I can 
finally get around to dyeing your hair green."

"Speaking for Benden, sir," Alyssa says in her quiet way, "I can assure 
you we are the better for your presence here and diminished by your 
departure. I'll hope to see you both again soon."

Ofira nods, "Three at the moment. And Emne has a few of her own. I hope I 
keep all three. I almost had to dismiss one. I really should have, but I 
thought I'd try to keep her on." She sighs. "I hope I did right."

Tresselin smiles. "I'm sure you did. Who are they now? Gwynden, Lavinia, 
and who

Karise walks in from the bowl.

Ofira mutters to Tresselin, "You... supposed to... involved in... 
relationships,... not... with child!"

T'fian takes a sip of his klah and nods to Karise. "Good evening, 
Greenrider," he says formally.

Ofira says "The third would be Sayla."

M'rgan eyes Kassima, judging her seriousness. She looks serious enough to 
him. Uh oh. "Reason four hundred and seventy-two of why I should avoid 
Benden. Sir?" The last question is directed to Alyssa. He glances around 
behind him, looking for the true sir, before turning back with a teasing 
smile. "I'm sure we'll be back more as the weyrlings are out. Ularrith 
wants to check on his children."

Ofira adds, "Gynden doesn't really have the status of apprentice yet."

Does she want to know? Um....nope. Instead, Karise nods to T'fian, before 
murmuring, "Good eve, sir." Other coversation is looked at, parsed, and 
dismissed before she makes her way over to the klah. Nope, not at all.

Nodding to M'rgan, Alyssa excuses herself to return to Skyfire's table and 
T'fian's side, waving to Karise as she enters.

Tresselin's eyes widen significantly at the whisper. "Surely not!" she 
exclaims, and then looks around and reminds herself of all the people in 
the LC. Calming, she nods. "Sayla, of course. I can't believe I forgot 
her. Did you count Gwynden as an apprentice, then, when you said three?"

Ofira nods, "I did, though she is still too young to be more than a 
student right now."

Kassima rolls her eyes at Mart. "Well, Kena's encouraged me to visit the 
'Reaches more oft, y'know; I *could* dye your hair green there. Wouldn't 
you rather I do so here so that your home-friends and wingmates won't see 
your hair until 'tis at least a *bit* faded?"

Karise blinks. Hair dye? This gets consideration, as she ambles over to a 
table, before waving to Alyssa and Kassi. Who? Green? Definate look, now.

Tresselin waves absently at both Karise and M'rgan, and nods at Ofira. 
"How many more Turns before she can be an official apprentice?"

Ofira considers, "Well, she'd need to be at the least 11 turns, and that 
would be unusual. So it'll be a while. If she chooses to stay with the 
Craft."

With a final wave and another roll of his eyes at Kassima, M'rgan heads 
out to the bowl.

Tresselin chuckles. "She'll be a knowledgeable apprentice by then, at 
least."

Ofira pushes asid the untouched food, "Well, I'd better go make sure the 
preparations for tomorrows meals are taken care of, if you'll excuse me 
for a bit."

Kassima chortles as she watches Mart go. "I'll have to remember to beg 
some green dye from Simian," she remarks aloud.

M'rgan walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.