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Feet of K


Date:  May 2, 2003
Place:  Telgar Weyr's Hot Springs
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  This was an entertaining RP session. ;)  Meeting up 
with I'sai and Kichevio in the Hot Springs, Kassi is presented with an 
unexpected chance for a foot rub--of which she naturally takes full
advantage--and also for a chance to confess certain of her Katlynn-
related evils.  However, nothing she did is remotely as evil as Kich
providing the mental image of ferns with bubbly pies.  (You'll see 
what I mean when you get there. ;)

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The Log:

You wing over the spiky cliffs towards the wafts of steam.

<*> Saulith flies over the edges of rock and lands on the far end of the
springs.

<*> Kichevio slides down easily from Saulith's neck.

<*> Late as it is, it's still only just after sundown, and diffuse light -
sunset and Belior - drifts ruddy-silver supplement to the glows... and to
the single-lidded blue of Taralyth's eyes, rising to meet them. He's in the
dragon pool, strapless and soaking, while his rider's claimed one of the
smaller spaces that's not quite so vulnerable to draconic antics.

<*> Kichevio is dressed for fun. Okay, and for dragon-bathing, but fun can
probably be had out of that somehow. Leaving Saulith to settle into the hot
water and make a vague greeting-noise at Lysseth and Taralyth, Kichevio
picks her way through the warm light and steam to where the brushes and
sweetsand are stored. "Evening Kassi, Is. I promise to do my very best not
to splash anyone."

<*> Lysseth is a ghost-shadow, a wraith, at first, with the steam leaving
her first a silhouette and then a naturally dark shape with grey tendrils
floating from its wings. By the time she lands with an unusual delicacy and
care--her rider, after all, is riding, and strapless besides--she's shaken
herself free of those veils with delicate movements of wings, and stands on
her own, to warble warm, tuneful greeting to Taralyth and then afford her
accustomed polite rumble to Saulith. "Evening," the rider bids from on
high, shifting to slide down a steam-slipped green shoulder. "What, Is,
have you managed t'get out of bathing him and scrubbing him and tending his
every desire, or is it that you've *already* given him that rightful due?"

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Kassima adds in wry humor, once she's safely on the ground, "M'thanks for
that, Kich, methinks. Since m'intent is just to be heinously lazy and soak
for awhile, and splashing wars would interfere with this convoluted scheme."

"Not even a little splash?" I'sai teases, invites; "_Tear_ wouldn't mind,"
his voice dreamy as Lysseth's is ghostly. Chin-deep, "And Kassi's right;
I've done my duty to him already. And I deserve soaking too. But I could
watch you being all splashy; that'd be just fine."

"I'd never dream of interfering with Kassi's plans of laziness," Kichevio
declares as she loads up on washing supplies. "And Is, you'd drown if we
started splashing. You look about melted. Which isn't a bad way to be. I'll
have to try it once Saulith's clean." She smiles at her one-time
Wingleader, half sympathy and half 'thank-Faranth-it's-not-me". "How much
longer, Kassi? Get Is to give you a foot rub or something, since he's here
and should be useful."

"Melted," I'sai affirms, lazy as anything, and reaches dripping, vaguely
pruney fingers toward the wingleader: "Hand it over."

"You're too good t'me, Kich. Six months," Kassi reports after ducking
behind her dragon to change, Lyss extending one wing for extra
shielding--and not even a rumble of protest; the dragon's far too used to
her lifemate's foibles by now. "So three months, two and a half mayhaps
closer, t'go yet. Still a ways. I swear t'you, I love pregnancy but could
well do without the great rounding part." Her head pops out briefly from
behind that wing, wearing a look of surprise: "What, seriously? Or are you
just trying t'lure me so you can break m'ankle, O Living Prune?"

Kichevio clambers up onto Saulith's neck, the better to scrub eyeridges and
have a good view. "I don't think he has ulterior motives...but if he does,
I want to watch you defeat him handily and proceed to wreak vengeance."
Saulith even opens one eye to watch this possible brouhaha.

I'sai slides a pale glance towards Kich-in-red, doing all that energetic
scrubbing and all, "And Kassi wouldn't fib about pregnancy and timing and
all," but he says it with a smile, too, and curls those fingers into the
air: "Definitely luring. Though not for ankle-breaking. Katlynn would be
distressed. No, I just want to count your toes."

Kassima sings liltingly, over the last rustles of cloth, "'But my dreams,
they aren't as empty as m'conscience seems t'be--I have hours, only lonely;
my love is vengeance that's never free.' Methinks I could defeat a melted
puddle, handicap and all." Though this doesn't prevent her from eyeing him
speculatively, once she's finally emerged, wrapped in a dark green towel
both larger and less careworn than her usual affairs. Trust Kassima to
possess maternity towels. "Hah. Katlynn would be distressed if'n I broke
*yours*. You're the one she's truly after--she hasn't, ah, spoken t'you
lately, has she?" She pads nevertheless towards the bronzerider's soaking
place, carefully settling herself into a seat on the rim before extending a
foot, wiggling its toes at him. "Now, there's an interesting purpose. Are
you taking a poll on how many riders here still have all theirs?"

[Editor's Note:  All due credit to The Who and their song 
'Behind Blue Eyes' for the lyrics Kassi sang. :) ]

"No straps," I'sai remarks in an undertone, once Kassima's nigh -
acknowledgement rather than censure, though, he's not -her- weyrlingmaster.
"And Kat? Of course. I've her fern to, uh, guard. Good thing it's
summertime." He reaches for her foot, the better to cup its heel in one
palm, count this-little-porcine-went-to-market between other thumb and
forefinger. "...A poll, because I couldn't take their word for it. Don't
worry; everyone else I'll ask to wash up -first-, though. Except maybe
Kich. Kich, have you been doing anything particularly grimy-sweaty-linty
today, or are you safe?" and never mind that all that dragon-washing's
maybe cleaning out her toes anyway.

"I sense a tickle-attack," Kichevio sing-songs in counterpoint with
Kassima. She can afford to be gleeful, she's proddy _and_ she's safe from
any similar attacks on her defenseless toes. "Don't trust him, Kassi, you
know what notorious toe-thieves bronzeriders are. He's even admitted to
luring." I'sai's question receives an affronted look. "I've been trying to
manage hidework, so I might be a little dusty, but other than that, I'm a
clean greenie. Why are you taking care of Katlynn's fern?"

"You try fitting straps around a pregnant midsection," Kassi murmurs back,
as quiet, a touch of amusement threaded under her tone. "I have a modified
set for when needs must; but when needs mustn't...." She lets that heel
nestle comfortably, but wiggles the toe within his grasp, though gently
enough that it's more acknowledgment of capture than real attempt to
escape. "That fern. So 'tis all you spoke of? She didn't mention aught she
might have talked with me about?" Relief? Yes, if slight, perceptable
perhaps only to one who knows her. Never a good sign. "D'you just trust me
t'have washed up, or--oh, Kich, he wouldn't dare. And he'd try better
places than m'feet if'n *'twere* his aim. But who says I trust him? I never
trust him. Never trust him nay t'be Evil, anyway, which is a different sort
of trust than more general trusts."

<Weavers> Katlynn heys.

<Weavers> Kassima snugsaKat! We were *just* talking about you. ;)

<Weavers> Katlynn says, "Reeeeeeeaaaaally."

<Weavers> Kassima says, "Yesyes. Kassi's trying to figure out if Kat
mentioned any of the things she and Kassi talked about to Is, while
visiting the Love Fern. ;)"

<Weavers> Katlynn didn't visit the love fern? Oh wait. I said I would. *hmm*,

"Because she asked me to, of course," as if it were as simple as that;
I'sai slides an assessing look pale Saulith's way - not one to turn down a
warning, he - but one shielded between still-hooded lids. "Hidework getting
dust between your toes. _That's_ really delving in..." and as long as he's
got Kassi's foot, he tickles a fingertip between her toes, as if to test
for dust _there_. He saves her the breath-out pooch for the pregnant
midsection comment, though, sharing a moment's smile again. "What would you
two say would be better places than feet? I like feet. Clean feet, mind."

<Weavers> I'sai says, "It's summer; it's still alive. Maybe even thriving.
Da-da-DUM! (But poor fern, come winter! Is might have to foster it out.)"

<Weavers> Kassima says, "Well, or on any other visit; she's just trying to
figure out if he's been talking to her lately in general. ;)"

<Weavers> Katlynn grins. Oookay :D

<Weavers> I'sai says, "And Is is all, 'la la la feet la.'"

<Weavers> S'dar takes a moment to fear the Love Fern.

<Weavers> I'sai says, "You should. ;)"

<Weavers> Katlynn says, "La la la feet la?"

<Weavers> Kassima says, "He has hold of and is tickling, evil fiend, one of
Kassi's feet."

<Weavers> I'sai trusts Kassi to explain it, 't'be Evil, anyway, which is a
different sort of trust than more general trusts.'

<Weavers> Katlynn just ohdears. A lot.

<Weavers> I'sai says, "Only a very tiny tickle."

Kichevio's comment is muffled somewhere around Saulith's chin, but still
audible. "Bordering on too much information. And I had no idea you were
such a pushover for orphaned ferns, Is. Such delicate things to trust a
toe-thieving bronzerider with, ferns. The dust was not between my _toes_.
That would be strange and off-putting, and I can't hold a pen in my toes
anyway." Beat. "Maybe I should learn." Now she's gone and got an idea in
her head.

Whatever Kassi said about better places, that one nevertheless gets her
foot to twitch in his hand, much of her leg to twitch out of it: "I'sai!"
she protests, using the other, uncaptured foot to try for a poke at ribs
under the water. The angle for this is probably bad, lucky for him. Also
lucky for him, her foot is a clean, dust-free foot, if increasingly wiggly
now. "What, for tickling? Or in general? And you still haven't answered
m'question." Pause. "That can be done, Kich. But the writing doesn't turn
out well."

"Oh, it's not just anyone's fern," I'sai assures. "This is -Katlynn's-
fern. Quite different. ...And I think you should definitely experiment.
Start with a stylus, so's you don't drip ink all over. Not that it much
matters here, and it's not as if you're wearing enough to stai... when did
-you- try it, Kassi? And of course I trust you to, what did you say, be
evil." He ducks the twitch and poke in favor of a strong thumb down her
instep, circling at her heel.

Kichevio nods, since this all makes sense to her given her current state of
mind. "Best to practice in clothes that are less likely to get stained,
anyway." She dangles a little further down Saulith's neck to get at an
itchy spot. "I want to know when Kassi tried it, too. If Is loosens up your
feet enough, will you give us a demonstration?"

"It being Kat's probably means 'tis crazy," Kassi mutters, sotto voce. "Or
that she's found some way t'sleep with it. Or at least lust after it. Or at
the very least admire its bubbly pies, if'n ferns *have* bubbly pies, which
I suppose they don't." Well, now, that made sense. Her foot twitches once
more at the touch, lightly, but not so much away; its owner confirms for
it, "Much better, that, and I'm flattered by the return of m'trust... 'twas
playing around with Khari, once upon a time; she wanted t'learn t'draw with
her feet. So we got on the floor in m'weyr and tried writing and drawing
with stencils between our toes. Mine was better, a fact of which I'd be
more proud if'n her toes hadn't been so much smaller than mine then. I
suppose I could demonstrate, but only if'n you have something you want
jagged, wavery lines scrawled across."

Taralyth sinks deeper within the largest pool, dark to light between
Lysseth's dark and Saulith's light, headknobs and ridges and just a little
of those long wings now playing archipelago; his eyes gleam the brighter
for it, like so much underwater lava if never so red. His rider stretches,
and massages Kassi's heel that much more, seeking to release what tightness
there is from just plain walking around; "For what it's worth, I haven't
seen any bubbly pies around the fern, and my fern won't -have- any bubbly
pies, if it has any self-respect. Though the littles might've left crumbs,
I suppose, but those scarcely count... good story, Khari's. Something to
remind her of. But no, no scrawly lines, though it wouldn't hurt to add
-some- decoration to the weyr; how about you, Kich?"

Kichevio laughs, flicking some suds at I'sai. "My weyr has survived
Kiralee's finger-painting phase, her chalk phase, her charcoal phase, and
her 'I wonder if the Weavers' dyes would stick to rock walls?' phase. It
has been decorated, and undecorated, and redecorated, enough. At least
until Kiralee gets a new art craze. Maybe a fern with bubbly pies would
distract her from art. Do the bubblies just appear around the fern, or do
they grow on the fronds or something?"

Lysseth has likewise chosen to slide into that pool somewhere along the
way, with no strap-encumberence to stop her. Her wings cup the water to
allow for tranquil floating; her eyes, first-lidded, but not so clouded
that they can't track Taralyth's sinking with silent, drifting curiosity.
As for her rider, she may just manage to melt without benefit of water at
this rate, at least from the ankle down. "You're good at this," Kassi
observes, half pleased sigh. "Should I offer this service in exchange when
you're done; are *your* feet clean? And bubbly pies, I suppose I should
explain, is evidently Kat's phrase for... a certain part of the female
anatomy." Pause. "Above the waist. So. The fern doesn't have bubbly pies,
but I'm nay sure what self-respect has t'do with it. And I *still* want an
answer," even if the inevitable contentment bestowed by a massage makes her
insistance halfhearted. "If'n you're still wanting suggestions, you've only
t'tell me when you've the time--*did* Weavers' dyes stick t'rock walls,
Kich? Khari never tried that one. And I'm just nay going t'picture ferns
with bubbly pies growing on the fronds, thankee."

Poor I'sai: hands occupied as they are, and unwilling to dodge, the suds
drop with a splat on the side of his forehead and dribble down to one
cheekbone; Taralyth twitches a wing for him, re-emerging past the floater,
inhaling deeply of the steamy air. "Just hoping she didn't decide to set
those dyes," he says - no splashing urine around for that weyr! "And thank
you, Kassi; my feet are very, very, very clean. Even the toenails. Answer
for what? As for the bubblies," and they earn a face, "You'd think Kat'd
pick something more -tasty- than bubblies. I take it she's not tried any."

Kichevio hoots with laughter from somewhere around Saulith's left flank.
"Bubbly ferns. Oh shells. I'll have to mention them to Kira; she'll have
Lysa and Valarra on a fern-hunting expedition in no time flat. And no, the
dyes thankfully did not set, though half my weyr was indigo for a sevenday,
and varying shades of blue for a month following."

Kassima is not so ungracious to one who took a wounding in her service,
such as it is, not to assist; she dips slim fingers into the water before
reaching to try and helpfully wipe the suds-dribble clean. Lysseth only
turns her head to continue watching, a green periscope deployed for
surveillance. "Now there's the question: should I trust you on *that*?
Hmm-mmm. I'll find out soon enough... an answer t'whether Kat might've
discussed aught *we* discussed with you." Another pause ensues, longer. She
eventually lets her nose crinkle. "Given whose bubblies she was discussing
at the time, methinks 'tis just safest for me t'refrain from comment
altogether. Kich... all right, I'm going t'regret this, but *why* would
your daughter have particular interest in a curvaceous fern? Surely she's a
*bit* young--oh, see, now, you should've told your conquests that, if'n you
haven't. I knew once of a lady who heard that a bronzerider's ceiling was
blue and became downright fixated on seeing it for herself."

I'sai lets himself be cleansed, eyes closing under it, prim as another
world's choirboy; Taralyth re-dunks, abrupt now, neck arching to lead
body's snaky way. "As much as you ever do... what? About her, ah,
courtship. Not working so well. I -think-. It was more that the baby was
moving, and I got to touch it, and that was something..." light tenor
shaded dreamy in reminiscence again, enough that he can just smile for the
ceiling. "Kich, what's your viewpoint, these days, on bubbly pies as
opposed to fishing poles?"

Kichevio is having bubbly pie questions thrown at her right and left. It's
very confusing. "Okay. Kassi, if I tell Kira bout bubbly ferns, she'll
believe they actually grow pastries. I don't think she's going to see any
hidden meanings in them until she hits puberty." May that day be far off.
She slips down the green's other flank. "And I prefer bubbly pies to
fishing poles, if only because berries and pastry taste better than fish in
any form. That's a randoim question, Is."

Not so random that I'sai doesn't sink water-ward, snickering boyishly.

Kassima and Lysseth both watch Taralyth now, the former's eyes more openly
puzzled: "What's he up to?" the human half of the pair wants to know.
Lysseth doesn't question; her rumble is definitely a comment. Possibly an
appreciative comment. Perhaps pertaining to the arch of that neck. "Then
for the nonce, 'twill trust," she decides. "'Tis only that dirty feet
*could* be considered Evil, you see. Oh--then she wasn't talking about her
courtship of you? I wonder if'n I should warn you. At the moment, so long
as you keep doing that, I'm inclined t'be generous... only maybe you'd
sooner be surprised." A fond smile with more than a touch of memory in
itself flicks across her face then. "I hope the baby's awake next time I
see Ozy; he hasn't, yet--oh, well, *that* sort of fern she can safely
appreciate," and then, well, she has to break off to duck her head and
*try* not to snicker quite so openly. Her shoulders shake, though. And so,
likely, does her foot. "You're *evil*," she informs him with pleasure. "Be
good and explain t'her now? Since *you* brought it up this time." Pause.
More snickering. "No, ah, pun intended there. Or literal observation as far
as I know."

Kichevio thinks. It's been one of those days, and it takes her a minute.
But the light eventually dawns. "You're in _trouble_," she informs the
bronzerider dramatically. "I hope Tear chases Saulith and loses, _then_
I'll make some comments about fishing poles, I assure you." Threat
delivered, she looks over at Kassima. "How's--Ozzy?--taking his impending
fatherhood? Getting nervous and solicitous yet?"

"Playing," I'sai decides once he's recovered, if bright-eyed and
tousle-haired still; he works back up along her foot to the toes again,
taking care with the little muscles to each one's side. Not even an
ill-stifled wince at chasing-and-losing can quite quash it; instead,
altogether too cheerily, "If he does, you'll be busy, probably with
L'cher." So there! "Poor Ozy. He'll get there sometime. And you're sure
it's not her courtship of him, not me?"

"You'd be too *busy* t'make comments about fishing poles if'n 'twas Saulith
risen!" Kassi sing-songs lightly back to Kich through her laughter, with an
open waggling of eyebrows. "Ozy, O'wyn, right. He's been marvelous,
actually. He just had his firstborn mayhaps three months ago, a little
lassling, and between that and work methinks he's seven shades of busy...
but he made me the most magnificent quilt. I'd never seen the like. And you
should see his *house*, all wood and windows and on a cliff! But for the
moment he still seems t'trust I can take care of m'self." She melts into
another sigh as her toes are attended to, bracing herself with the palms of
her hands so that she can relax without risking falling backwards. "Oh, I'm
sure, I'm sure. Her current plot involves me kissing her and saying ooh and
ahh and what-all in front of you, so you'll either want t'go t'bed with us
both or pounce her in a fit of jealous lust. She seemed uncertain of just
which would result."

Kichevio blinks, several times. The mental image of Kassi kissing Katlynn
and going 'ooh' was not one she ever thought she'd entertain. "Just how
drunk was she going to get you before all this kissing and pouncing
commences? Though I applaud her courting multiple people at once; that
takes talent. The fishing poles would be discussed _later_, Kassi. In
public, possibly in front of someone Is Searched and who previously thought
he was an Infallible Bronzerider."

I'sai had initially heard this recounting with aplomb, but by the time
she's going off on work this and quilt that and house the other thing, he's
mouthing a rather exaggerated imitation of sheer and total -gushing-. "Take
care of yourself, unlike certain then-Weyrseconds - not you, Kich - " he
does contribute in _slightly_ more well-mannered fashion. Toes toes toes.
"Hmm. That's an entertaining idea. I don't see how she thinks you'd carry
it off so it's, you know, -believable-, though. You'd have to practice." -
"'Infallible Bronzerider'?" He's not above mimicking Kich's intonation too.
"Ha. You'd have to find one. Haven't had time to get out and about, too,
though I've been wondering about asking about flying a Fall or two with
Skyfire once the old clutch's gotten into wings - _Anyway_. I thought the
point was that bronzeriders weren't particularly infallible, so nobody'd be
surprised. Would they!"

Kassima drawls, "Doesn't matter how drunk she *intended* t'get me--though
would you believe, I'm thinking she thought nay 'tall, since she seemed
t'think 'twould occur soon?--'twouldn't do it. I've been kissed by women.
And when 'tis Lysseth's turn, I suppose I've kissed women. But without her
impetus, I do nay initiate kissing of women, ever. And the only problem
with that, Kich, is that you'd also have t'somehow find a time when nay
anyone in that public room could point out how 'twere lying--something
which I daresay would be a challenge." For all the implicit compliment of
sorts in that, she nevertheless gives Is a mock-dirty look in her next
breath. "What, should I nay appreciate kindnesses done me? That's better."
That would be the toes. "And I have nay intention of practicing. Actually,
methinks I talked her out of it--I, ah. Sort of suggested something t'her.
That's why I wanted t'know if'n she'd been talking t'you, so I could try
t'guess whether you'd try t'wrench me into the pool and drown me for it."
For the last part of the exchange, she just chipperly chimes in, "Nay
infallible at all!"

Kichevio seizes the interesting little tidbit in the middle of all that
with relish. "Just what did you suggest to her, getting Is drunk and
dressing him in frills? I never said he was _infallible_, just that some
starry-eyed person whom Taralyth had Searched might pin such a label on him
and refuse to be disabused of his notions."

I'sai duly -tugs- on that foot he's claimed, by way of preemptive
wrenching-rather-than-wenching - but not so hard as all that, she's with
child after all, even if it is by that house-creature; "No frills," he
warns. "Tell me now, or - or else!"

Kassima's headshake is definite, and quick, if almost regretful. "Didn't
even *think* of that--'twas too busy trying t'get out of kissing her,
y'see, so I told her--oh, *now* you tempt me nay to," she warns I'sai,
tugging very lightly back if not enough so to get free or even be seriously
trying, "just t'see what 'or else' is. But mayhaps you'll do it to me
anyway. See, I, ah. Well. I suggested t'her that if'n I kissed her in front
of you like she wanted, well, if'n *she* thought 'twas so sharding
beautiful, mayhaps you'd decide you wanted t'pounce *me* in a fit of
jealous lust and carry me off so we could go make hundreds of I'sai-Kassi
spawn after this one was born. Instead of her. And so we shouldn't do that
because she surely wouldn't want that t'happen." She slants him a look with
some genuine anxiousness in it, but still doesn't try to get out of reach.
Perhaps foolishly. "She apparently *bought* this. Am I doomed t'die now?"

The thought of hundreds of I'sai-Kassi spawn is enough to send Kichevio
into fits of hysterical laughter, and possibly paroxysms of fear. "I bet
the concept froze her speechless, and that's how you made your escape," she
manages.

"Depends on how much she bought it for," says I'sai meanwhile - tug tug
tug, lightly enough as before - "Because I want a cut of it. Unless it
involves frills or the like. And of course you're doomed to die! but since
I'm the one dooming you, I say it shan't be for well into the Interval,
say, a good hundred Turns or so... it's an interesting idea, and for all
that she must be confusing us with firelizards - hundreds! - you two seem
to be having quite a time pulling each other's legs. I think I'm supposed
to note now that they're shapely legs, and mention as how I appreciate your
showing yours off, Kich, and what else was on my list? Oh. Yes. I'm
supposed to dream about you lot when I go off to sleep, which I shall do
shortly: legs scuttling all around like spinners in some web. But the thing
is, if I carry you off right then and there, I'd have to keep you around
till -his- spawn was out of you, and it'd be a lot of work what with the
care and feeding and, Faranth, the mint."

Taralyth resurrects himself from the watery depths, fluttery-winged and
torn: good company, warm water - but then there's flight and home and _oil_ -

Saulith noses a small splash in Taralyth's fluttery direction--some of us
are trying to _soak_ here!

Kassima lets herself be tug, tug, tugged milimeters closer to falling into
the water, though she doesn't seem *too* terribly in danger in soaking him
with a cannonball yet. "She bought it for my nay having t'kiss her, I
guess, so you're sure you want a cut of that? Ah, but *thankee*--that's
quite generous. If'n ever I doom you, I shall return the favor, since what
fun's living for nigh on ever if'n you don't have anyone t'spar with? The
problem is that she's nay pulling m'leg, nay in that sense. In the sense
*you* are... I'm sure she'd like the chance." Rueful, but there is some
amusement there. "I suggested the hundreds. Better hyperbolic than
sorry--actually, I said we couldn't have *hundreds*, that might kill me,
only she took that t'mean you and I should never have *any* more and I said
I didn't know about that, since it went against m'whole evil plan. Whose
legs are shapely, exactly? And are you leaving now, when I still owe you a
foot-rub back?" Her toes wiggle the more for his rambling; she might be
trying not to look entertained, but *they* have no such compunction. "So
kind, t'dream, so kind, and are you saying 'twas *such* a burden with
Kisai? Only this time, if'n you carried me off, you'd have t'*deliver* the
spawn. Wouldn't that be fun, Kich? Is delivering babies?" She waggles her
brows, completely without shame. "And nay, she didn't freeze, she went off
t'plot more evil--*after* saying that she would share Is with me since we
were such great friends, however. For Kat, I suspect that's quite generous."

Lysseth offers sly compromise in a casual, humor-deepened rumble: flight,
home, perhaps can't be had along with the company and water, but could
rider not be made to oil him *here*? --And she's fully without ulterior
motive beyond appreciation of his company there, yes; never mind that the
greens would get to watch this, admire.

Kichevio lost the thread of I'sai's statement somewhere in the middle, and
is thus standing in the water visibly trying to make sense of things.
"He's...going to dream about shapely spider eggs. And give birth to mint?
You're welcome. I think. Did I miss something?"

Shapely spider *legs*. Eeeeech.

Who knows what's really on the sands!

Aww, there goes my mental image of spider eggs tucking themselves into
miniature bustiers and fishnets and whistling, "Howdy, sailor!" at passers-by.

Taralyth gladly splashes back, head lifted, neckridges gone all spiky - his
wings widened, _displayed_, just enough that the rumble might echo off them
- and his rider snorts, and sets down the Kassi-foot gently enough that
it's barely a brush of stone against skin. "Well, not positive, now that
you mention it, but - " he rubs his temple with his freed hand as if trying
to parse the rest, and then skips to here and there. "Your legs, plural?
K-legs? And you can owe me the foot-rub for later, I like your owing me
favors, and _more_ evil, and I dare say it is generous, and you should tell
me more about this evil plan of yours, but later, and..." he turns to pull
himself up, snagging the previously-placed towels and trying. "Mint. Right.
Didn't see it when we visited. But I'm sure it's not _lost_."

"Eww, who'd want t'eat mint that'd been... well, I'm nay sure *where* it
would've been, with a man, but been anywhere it could possibly have been?"
And Kassi makes a show of crinkling her nose for good measure. "He's
basically going t'dream about our disembodied legs, and he doesn't want
t'carry me off because I'm too much of a hassle, pregnant, given how much
mint I eat," she translates. "Methinks." She flashes him a smile for the
gentleness; Lysseth, being evidently in a mood, indulges in some shameless
wing-gazing. A pity she has no hotel room keys to throw at him. Does a
breath of air puffed towards them, as if to make them ripple, count?
"K-legs. Ah, I knew 'twere a man of taste. All right, I'll save the
foot-rub--only don't take over ten Turns t'get back t'me on this one, hey?"
she teases. "Just tell me when you want, or need. I *may* give you more
details while I do it. I'sai! Would I ever lose m'mint? Though I'm touched
'twould look for it for me. Try the greenhouse next time."

Kichevio is somewhat mollified. Not that there's much she can do about
I'sai stealing her legs to dream about. "Okay, but give the legs back to
the Ks when you're done with them. It's only polite." Saulith is forced to
wake up, and gives Taralyth a Look. You're cute, but that doesn't excuse
your behavior.

Ripple-ripple-ripple, made the showier thereby - another snort from
Taralyth's rider turns into a yawn. "...reenhouse. All right." He drifts a
long, not-quite-clinical glance down what he can see of their legs in turn,
as if to memorize whose is whose and not get them mixed up on the
giving-back - "And I won't even transfer the footrub from me to Kat," and
_there's_ a wicked smile. "Night, Kitschy, Kassi," and then Is moves to
escape to clothes, and dragon, and sky.

[Editor's Note:  Kichevio got disconnected, so the scene, and 
log, ends here. :) ]